Release
by fennecfawkes
Summary: Harry/Snape. It's something everyone needs sometimes, whether you're a specky, scrawny git or a sallow-faced, hook-nosed man with a sour expression. Not epilogue compliant, not in the least. Note: I don't own these characters.
1. Chapter 1

Severus Snape liked the quiet life.

After suffering the embarrassment of having Harry Potter, the Boy Who Wouldn't Die, save his life the season before, he retreated to Snape Manor. The house was still pristine and blissfully empty but for his family's ancient house elf, Anansi. So named for his spindly limbs and rounded body, Anansi was pleasant enough company, insofar as he kept to himself, without the hulking figure and constant mumblings of Kreacher or the simpering attitude of a Hogwarts elf.

No, Anansi kept things in order and never forgot himself, only speaking when spoken to and never doing his cleaning in Severus' presence. When Severus woke in the morning, his meals were prepared, his collection of Muggle paperbacks neatly ordered with whatever title Severus happened to be reading on top. And Anansi's sense seemed almost supernatural, predicting when Severus would need a footrest or some off-kilter ingredient for his latest non-regulation potion. Yes, Severus quite liked Anansi, and he'd miss the constant assistance when he went back to Hogwarts.

Severus wasn't passionate about teaching the same way his colleagues were. Certainly, he enjoyed it, but he sometimes wondered if he might rather have gone into a more desirable occupation—Auror, perhaps, or even mediwizard at St. Mungo's. But he'd fouled up when he got mixed up in the Death Eater game and prevented any success outside Hogwarts.

If he tried, could he switch careers now that it had quietly been made known that he never strayed from Dumbledore after their partnership nearly 20 years ago? Likely, yes. But he didn't have the energy. His teaching had a rhythm about it that could hardly be threatened by most anything.

Potter, however, might change that.

Granger, Weasley, and Potter were all coming back to take their NEWT exams. Potter, he knew, wanted a career as an Auror, as did Weasley, and while it was easy to say that Weasley might fail in his endeavors, it was harder, even for Severus, to say the same of Potter. The truth was, he'd become a much more powerful wizard since his entrance into the school. This was the case for many students, but Potter's transformation was alarming, considering how clumsy and forgetful he once was. Perhaps that had something to do with Severus' initial view of Potter; it was completely possible that the gradual transformation wasn't so shocking. At any rate, Severus was not looking forward to teaching the same boy who dragged him outside and to St. Mungo's as he bled from a near-fatal wound. The Healers had repaired him, and by the time he was ready to leave hospital, Potter had gone.

It shocked Severus how modest Potter could be. Most people would be self-congratulatory, having saved a life, but Potter didn't even want to talk about it, didn't even want to be there when Severus woke up. This was part of the reason Severus had never sent him any kind of thanks—this, and pride. So, Potter saved him. He was alive. Potter killed the Dark Lord, and all was well with the world, and that was that.

Making things more problematic was Potter's external transformation from bumbling, bespectacled child to undeniably attractive young man. Severus was, as so few people knew, bisexual, and hadn't been attracted to a woman since Lily Evans. Albus had been his most trusted friend in regard to this topic; neither was what you'd call open about their sexuality, and thus had much to say to each other whenever the subject came up. Most entertaining was when the old man slipped and revealed what other wizards he knew to be gay, lesbian, or bisexual; Severus must have laughed for over a minute when he found out that Lupin and Black had a tryst when they were all still at school. The Potter situation, however, was altogether less amusing.

It had begun when Potter was 15, sitting across from Severus in the dungeons, closing his eyes and leaning back as Severus attempted, often successfully, to enter his mind. Potter had been so vulnerable then, the space in his head so available, so susceptible to invasion ... Severus forced himself to ignore the burning feeling in his chest when he saw some of Potter's less pure moments, time spent kissing Cho Chang or cooking up fantasies about the Weasley girl. He tried, mostly unsuccessfully, to expel these thoughts he had about the boy. How easy it would be to take advantage of the situation, how good it would feel, skin against skin again...

But no, Severus never did anything of the sort. He was too smart for that. He'd also been too smart to tell Albus about his feelings, although the idea that Albus already knew nagged at him, and often.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Severus?" Albus would ask as he left the headmaster's study. The old man's eyes had a twinkle about them at those times, and Severus would reply with a curt "No" and bid him goodnight. He didn't want to disappoint Albus. He respected him too much, and appreciated the reciprocity of that respect too much, to risk it by telling the man about his growing attraction to someone who was, at the end of the day, just a reckless, unlucky, irritating boy.

But, on his return to Hogwarts, there was one thing about which Severus was quite sure: Harry Potter was no longer a boy.

He looked taller somehow, though it was highly unlikely he'd reached a greater height in the past three months at age 18. His posture was better, his muscles were taught and slightly visible through his Oxford shirt, and he'd given up his glasses in favor of contact lenses. His eyes flashed green as his expression became strained and he took a seat between Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley. The Weasley girl put her hand over his protectively as he settled in, leaving Severus to idly wonder what had transpired between Granger and Potter during whatever sort of trip they'd taken. Severus noted Ron Weasley's absence, thinking that perhaps he'd reconsidered the Auror ambition.

Severus began the first day of class as he usually did, going over the course schedule in brief, stressing the importance of attendance and homework, and rattling off the important dates for in-class testing, NEWT practice, and the actual NEWTs themselves. Granger scribbled furiously in her overstuffed planner. Ginny Weasley looked to be doodling, and Potter stared straight at Severus, never averting his gaze as Severus told them which potion they would be brewing, and what page to turn to. Potter's reverie was broken by Hermione's elbow in his side. Startled, he took out a spare piece of parchment and hastily copied down what Hermione had already written, then nudged Weasley with his shoulder. She looked at what he had written and began copying it over on her own scrap of parchment.

Since it was the first day of class, Severus had the seventh year students brew a simple potion: Protosolite, or The Lightness Potion, meant to cause a lighter, more carefree mood. Granger was the first student to realize she didn't have all the necessary materials; one by one, her classmates followed after her to the supply cabinet. Meanwhile, Severus sat at his desk, drafting a letter to Lucius Malfoy. He was reminded of his imprisoned friend by the presence of Lucius' son, Draco, who had reluctantly returned to Hogwarts after a year with the Death Eaters. Draco had a hangdog look about him, and his eyes were red-rimmed, almost as if he'd been crying. Severus made sure to ask Lucius if everything was alright with his son in the letter. Draco had always been a favorite student of his. Sure, the kid was a bit of an arse, but he was well meaning and very bright—the singular trait he stayed modest about. After finishing the letter and sending it off with Aloysius, his owl, Severus busied himself with his notes for the next class he was to teach and avoided looking at Potter, who had begun to sweat as he stirred his potion. It would've been nice to return to form and yell at the man—er, boy—but his Protosolite looked promising, on its way to the sunny yellow shade it would eventually take on. The same went for Granger's, naturally, and for Draco's, but Ginny Weasley's potion was a mess. She was either crying or her eyes were watering from the foul stench her cauldron emitted. Regardless, Severus would be slashing points from her grade for the day.

At the end of class, Severus nodded at Granger and Potter, and told Weasley to re-read the instructions next time. It wasn't a strong admonishment, but she still glared at him. Potter muttered something along the lines of "Don't bother" to her, and he and both girls walked away. Draco lingered in the classroom.

"Sir?" he said tentatively as soon as the last student slipped out of the room. "Se—Severus?"

"Best you not call me that anymore, Draco," said Severus. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if I could stay in the dungeons tonight. In your chambers. Would that be alright with you?"

"Why do you ask?"

Draco sighed and ran his hand through his no-longer-slick white-blond hair. "It's just ... it's hard, back in Slytherin. No one will talk to me. I think if I got settled somewhere I was welcome first..."

"You wouldn't be able to stay more than a night or two. Then you would have to go back to your house anyway," said Severus. He had his reasons for pushing Draco away. For one, it simply wasn't practical to keep a flatmate in your quarters, and for another, more than once over the past year, Draco had come onto him. It started out subtle, sidelong glances and the occasional wink, and got more obvious and obnoxious as time wore on, elongated embraces and tender expressions whenever Severus entered the room. By the time Draco tried to kiss him while rattling off the United Kingdom's Age of Consent laws, Severus had had quite enough.

"I know, but..." Draco reached forward and put his hand on Severus' arm while looking the professor in the eye. Quickly, Severus swatted Draco's hand away. Draco looked wounded. Severus could not blame him. It hurt to have someone you cared about turn you down. He knew that. But there were boundaries he was simply unwilling to cross.

"Draco, you are a student," said Severus, trying to sound gentle as possible. "And I am your professor. I cannot have you carrying on like this, in my classroom or out."

"Yes, sir," Draco said. "I guess I'll just have to know that ... you know."

"Right. Goodbye, Draco."

Draco left the room. Severus sighed and sat down, putting his head on his desk and groaning. It was rare for students to be taken with him. Draco was the first in years, and it was always boys, always boys who were deep in the closet and flaunted their masculinity as a means of self-preservation. Even with his level of perseverance, Draco's pursuit wasn't the most dogged; no, that honor belonged to Thaddeus McCray, a skinny Scottish boy who belonged to Slytherin House before Draco ever entered the halls of Hogwarts. Memories of Thaddeus' attempts to slip him Amortentia, the late-night, unwelcome surprise visits in the dungeon, the notes ... oh, the notes. Severus' chest tightened as he remembered showing them to Albus and the way they'd laughed over teenage lust and the jaded realism of adulthood. Albus had been a good friend in a time when there were few good friends left. It was a thought that diverted his attention time and again those first few days of term, and one that made him wonder if he should visit the staff table a bit more often.

Really, now that he was in the clear entirely, it was much easier for him to talk to people like Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt. When Minerva had been appointed Hogwarts headmistress, Hestia Jones had taken her place as Transfiguration professor, and Kingsley took the subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

On the Thursday of that first week, Severus decided to dine with his colleagues, and it wasn't nearly as stressful as he'd mentally made it out to be. Sure, the levels of kindness varied; poor Filius Flitwick still regarded him with a sense of hesitance, and Pomona Sprout seemed to avert her eyes every time he looked her way. But those whose respect he most desired, namely Kingsley and Minerva, treated him as a valued member of the staff.

"The Order's getting together for dinner this week," Kingsley told Severus as they were heading back to their respective classrooms.

"The few of us that remain?" Severus said dryly.

Kingsley laughed. "The few and the proud, yes. Are you interested? It's at Molly and Arthur's."

"I think I could make it, yes," said Severus. "What time?"

"I'll check with the Weasleys and tell you when I know," said Kingsley. "Hestia, you'll be there, right?"

Hestia smiled warmly at both of them. "Of course. I wouldn't miss Molly's cooking."

Severus went back to the dungeons. If it were possible, he would have a spring in his step; such as it is, he wasn't scowling quite as hard as usual, and he felt optimistic about that afternoon's session with the seventh years. He wondered how hard it would be to ask Potter about his friend's absence in the classroom without appearing interested in Potter's body ... or eyes ... or lips. Pushing the thought out of mind, he waited for all the members of the class to file into the room and began the lesson.

Ginny Weasley was more attentive today, and her Culpsis Potion, an indicator of guilt, looked and smelled as it should. The same went for Granger's, and Potter's. Potter had, in fact, brewed what was clearly the best potion in the class, something Severus refused to admit in front of a roomful of students, but would perhaps tell Potter after the rest had left.

"Mr. Potter?" he said after dismissing the students. "A word?"

Potter nodded and walked over to Severus' desk. They stood facing each other across it, and Severus was glad for the barrier between them.

"I've noticed that your friend Mr. Weasley is no longer a part of our class," said Severus. "I was under the impression that he aspired to be an Auror."

"He did, sir," said Potter, sounding nervous.

"I'm not punishing you, Mr. Potter," Severus said. "No need to be on edge today. In fact, you made your year's best potion today."

Potter beamed, looking more like a child than he had since the year began. It put Severus more at ease.

"Thank you, sir."

"And Mr. Weasley changed his mind?" Severus asked, rapidly changing back to the topic at hand.

"Ron ... Ron thinks the Ministry is corrupt, sir," said Potter, head bent, looking embarrassed. "He doesn't want to be a part of it, and since being an Auror would be, y'know, part of it ... he quit that."

"Right." Severus paused. "I would ask for more elaboration on the corruption of our Ministry, but I will refrain. Thank you, Mr. Potter. You may leave."

As he said these words, Ginny Weasley walked back into the room.

"Harry?" she called out.

"Was there something you needed, Ms. Weasley?" Severus asked dryly.

"No. Just my boyfriend," she said, sounding flippant. Seeming to think better of it, she walked back out.

"Sorry about her," said Potter. "Well, bye."

Severus was grateful the boy didn't turn back to see him staring.

The term progressed in such a way that Severus couldn't complain. When they tried, his students were hardly short of exemplary. Thursday dinners became routine, he hadn't been forced to give out a detention in weeks, and Slytherin had won all its Quidditch games in September, October, and November. This might have something to do with Harry Potter's absence on the Gryffindor team, but no matter; Slytherin was winning, and that counted.

In addition, Draco Malfoy hadn't shot him a furtive glance in weeks. Severus assumed this was due, at least in part, to the boy's budding romance with Blaise Zabini. In a way, Severus was proud of both students for being upfront about their relationship, no matter how much scrutiny they may have been under. Hestia Jones, who had come out years before, told him how hard it was for her to resist giving the boys house points for their public displays of affection. Typically, this consisted of holding hands and hugs in the corridors, but there was also the occasional peck on the cheek. Severus remarked dryly that he wouldn't mind a few extra points for a little homosexuality, which Hestia laughed at for longer than such a weak joke warranted.

Severus had also noticed that Ginny Weasley wasn't hanging on to Harry Potter quite as possessively as she once had. He did his best to ignore the way they didn't try to sit together in Potions, or at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, or in the library, under Madam Pince's watchful eye. Actually, come to think of it, everywhere Severus went, it seemed that Potter was there, and Potter was alone. Severus chalked this up to coincidence, and attempted to avert his eyes whenever the boy passed by.

But he couldn't ignore Potter anymore when, one day, the boy wouldn't leave the classroom after the end of the session, even as Granger's follow-up question got answered and Malfoy's late assignment was grudgingly accepted. Potter approached his desk hesitantly; again, Severus was grateful for that barrier. Potter looked especially good today, his shirt a little tighter than usual, his face a bit pinker, and the muscles in his face relaxed as he looked at his professor. Severus noticed that he had opted to wear glasses that day; for once, they didn't make his appearance more youthful. Quite the contrary—Potter looked older, wiser somehow.

"Sir, there's something I think I may need some help with," Potter began.

"Yes?"

"I've been having these dreams. About Voldemort. And they're really confusing, and dark, and I don't know how much more I can take before they throw me off from the lest of rife. Er, rest of life," he said, blushing slightly. "And I was thinking ... I was wondering if you maybe had the time to look into my mind for a while, see where they're coming from, and maybe you could see what I could do to try and stop them."

Severus didn't need any power of Occlumency to see that Potter was very nervous and, also, that the boy needed help.

"Because you and Mr. Weasley have not clouded my schedule with detentions this year—"

A smile tugged at the corner of Potter's lips. Severus deftly ignored it.

"I have enough time to help you with your problem. I cannot promise we will solve it, but we will most certainly try."

Potter's face broke into a full smile. Severus allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up slightly, but no more than that.

"I cannot meet with you Thursdays."

"How about tonight?" blurted Potter. "I mean, it'd be nice to start sooner rather than later. If that's alright with you."

"That should be fine. How about 9 o'clock in my office?"

Potter nodded. "Sounds great. Thanks, sir."

The boy practically skipped out of the room, and Severus shook his head. He'd purposely scheduled the appointment for a few hours later than he typically would. He knew that being alone with Harry Potter might test all his professional mettle, so he'd take these extra hours to brace himself for impact.

And impact there was.

Potter probably didn't feel it, but the boy was fraught with desire for ... something. Severus couldn't quite pinpoint what, or who, it was, but like myriad teenage males before him, Potter was suffering with what could be called withdrawal. And who could blame him? Unless he'd bedded Granger or, God forbid, Ron Weasley near constantly through the past year, the boy must have put off countless opportunities for some tryst or another. Mixed in with the nightmares about the Dark Lord overtaking him in that final battle were images of both men and women, in varying states of undress, on the sidelines, cheering him on, catcalling him, asking when he'd be ready for them.

So when Potter asked, after Severus had had a look, what exactly was going on in his subconscious, Severus hedged a little and determined that he needed a few days' study to figure out what he'd just seen—though really, he already knew. He just wanted to know how to present it to Potter without horrifying the boy. And that's what he told him.

"But you have some idea, right?" asked Potter hopefully.

"I do," said Severus. "And this time next week, I might have another look. Whatever the case, we can meet again."

"Great. Thanks. You have no idea. Really." As Potter rose to walk away, he leaned forward slightly and awkwardly placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. "I'm really grateful for your help, Professor." He then turned on his heel and walked away.

Severus couldn't quite gauge what that touch on the shoulder had meant, so he tried to put it out of mind as he prepared the next day's lesson for his sixth year students. It was a simple calming draught, and while he didn't normally sample assignments, this time, he thought he would. It would just be easier for him that way, to drift away and ignore whatever thoughts he currently had about Potter, to escape this muddled state of mind and live outside his head for a bit.

He didn't allow himself to think about the Potter situation too much for the next few days as he spent time with the other remaining Order members and, over the weekend, visited Hogsmeade to stock up on some supplies. It was in the Hog's Head Pub where he ran into a young man he found vaguely familiar.

"Severus Snape?" said the man. "Potions professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

Severus could smell the liquor coming off the man in waves. He nodded curtly.

"It's me!" said the man, and Severus was able to recognize him as Thaddeus McCray threw his arms around him and held him both too long and too tightly.

"Never got over you, did I?" he said, directly into Severus' ear. Severus felt his own body stiffen against Thaddeus'. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that the student had grown into his gangly features, now pleasantly lanky rather than too tall for his stunted torso. His hair was long and brown and feathery, and his eyes were blue enough to notice immediately.

"Still teaching, then?" asked Thaddeus.

Severus nodded. "And you, Thaddeus? What have you made of yourself since graduation?"

"I'm working at St. Mungo's. Mediwizard in training," Thaddeus said, looking proud.

"Impressive."

"Glad you think so. It's certainly been that way for other men."

Severus refrained from snorting. The way Thaddeus looked at him, though flattering, was patently ridiculous. Did the boy really think anything had changed since graduation? No matter how well the years had done him, he wasn't about to change his mind about Thaddeus McCray.

Or was he?

Severus ordered a second drink, Thaddeus announced that this round was on him, and the next, and the one after that ... And the more Severus drank, the better looking Thaddeus became. It didn't take long for Thaddeus to drag Severus outside and use Side-Along Apparition in order to get back to his flat.

"I never told the headmistress I wouldn't be coming back for the night," Severus told Thaddeus. He sounded, to himself, like a drunken fool. Still, Thaddeus didn't seem to mind.

"We'll have you back before bed check," he murmured as he pulled Severus' cloak off the professor's shoulders, going to work on the fasteners on the front of his robes. "Want to give me a hand?"

Clumsily, Severus began undoing all the complicated, or so it seemed, snaps down the front of Thaddeus' cloak, daunted that there didn't seem to be any layers underneath.

"Makes it easier for you, doesn't it?" said Thaddeus, far beyond simple flirtation, easing into what Severus could only term seduction. The former student chose that moment to kiss Severus, and with considerable force at that. Severus hadn't noticed before how convenient it was that the bed was directly behind him, and now underneath him, and now it seemed to help envelop him as Thaddeus draped himself over him...

"Are you ready for me, Severus?" Thaddeus asked, sounding very much like the adult he now was. Severus found himself unable to speak. He nodded, and Thaddeus smiled, kissing him again.

Severus didn't feel very well back in his own chambers. He knew he had a potion somewhere, a potion to put off hangovers before they began, but he hadn't had to use it in so long that he hadn't the faintest where it was. If only he could remember what it was called...

Absurdly proud of himself for remembering in such a state, he slurred, "Accio Sensiside!" The tiny brown bottle found its way into his hand. Severus unstoppered the potion and took it down in one swig before lying in bed, ignoring his headache and doing what he could to forget all that had transpired.

For the life of him, Severus could not understand how easily others could shrug off the occurrence of a one-night stand—which was, presumably, what he had just had with McCray. He'd told Thaddeus this couldn't be a common occurrence, and the boy seemed to understand, although Severus suspected he would like to pursue something more than that. A relationship wasn't something Severus was in any place for; in point of fact, he really never had been, not since Lily.

Thinking of Lily made him think of Potter, and thinking of Potter made him think of what he still needed to do in the coming week. He had a decent handle on what he'd be telling Potter. Certainly, it would embarrass both of them, but ultimately, it would be better for the boy. But what would Severus tell the boy to do? Sleep with someone? Pleasure himself more? The thought made him shudder and he decided that whatever Potter did with his frustrations was the boy's own decision to make.

Eventually, Severus drifted off into a fitful sleep. The potion took its course, and his Sunday was quiet and pleasant. Thaddeus owled him, but the note was friendly, not overtly flirtatious. He had a small pile of essays to grade but nothing else to do, and an evening of Terry Pratchett novel-reading and firewhisky-drinking seemed to be in order.

Yes, Severus had, by all accounts, a good weekend, though the same could not be said of Harry Potter.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone knew about Draco Malfoy's crush on the Potions professor. Everyone snickered at the boy in the hallways. Everyone talked about him in the common rooms. Everyone cringed at the idea of the professor being in love with _anyone_, let alone a Hogwarts student.

But no one knew about Harry's affection for Severus Snape, and Harry intended for it to remain that way.

If Ginny was too thick to notice, then Ron certainly was, and Hermione ... well, Hermione was distracted by how to break up with Ron for Percy, the Weasley Harry had always known that Hermione preferred. The reason this weekend, in particular, had been so bad was that Ron was just starting to figure out that something was going on. How he hadn't any sooner, Harry could never know. Why else would Percy be visiting them at the castle on the weekends, and why would he be so interested in Hermione's studies? Percy was bookish, yes, but not _that _bookish. Ron couldn't have thought they were simply in the library they entire time. Or maybe he did until Ginny made some crude comment about their exclusive behavior on Saturday evening. Ron's mood soured, and stayed that way the rest of the weekend, while Harry was forced to listen to him sulk and, alternately, hear Hermione's constant worrying.

Monday showed no signs of improvement, as Ron slunk to the Gryffindor table at breakfast with Parvati Patil on his arm. The two seemed to be looking for nourishment from each other's lips rather than anything on the table. Hermione and Ginny both seemed unruffled by Ron's plea for attention, but as soon as both Weasleys and Ron's new girlfriend left, Hermione expressed yet more frustration.

"You realize this means you don't have to worry anymore, right?" said Harry, failing to see the problem.

"Don't be stupid," she hissed. "It means I have to worry _more_. It's clearly a coping mechanism, and Parvati obviously has no idea, and now I'm going to have to be there for her when he breaks it off, and you know he _still _won't be happy about Percy and me, and meanwhile, you're still dating Ginny!"

"What's that got to do with anything?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, it doesn't have to do with Ron and Percy and Parvati and me, I suppose. Actually, it does. It has to do with everyone." Hermione sighed. "Listen, Harry. She's surly, and she complains all the time, and you don't even appear to be attracted to her, so why do you keep leading her on?"

"I thought you and Ginny were friends," Harry said.

"Best of," said Hermione. "But she's been terrible lately, hasn't she?"

"So why would it help for me to be off of her?"

"It'd be one less thing to complain about," Hermione said neatly, taking a nail file out of her bag and going to work on one index finger.

"She complains about me? And since when do you care about your nails?"

"I don't. Percy does. He likes them short and neat, among other things." Harry tried not to blush, and Hermione went on, "And yes. She complains about you most of all. She'd be a lot happier without you, Harry."

"Well, thanks."

"I didn't say I would be!" said Hermione, her voice going up slightly. "You're too good for her is the thing, and you'd be happier, too, and you know it. Remember, you don't even know if you like girls or boys or what."

"Don't say that so loudly, Herm," said Harry exasperatedly, remembering that campfire confessions were not, despite Hermione's urgings to the contrary, the most healthy thing he'd ever had.

"Anyway. Break up with her, will you?"

"Fine. Maybe. I don't know."

Hermione sighed deeply and packed up her things to go. "Are you ready for class?"

"Yeah. That I know."

Harry broke up with Ginny that evening.

She was stone-faced throughout, and asked if she could go as soon as he'd said they ought to still be friends.

"Gin, you don't need my permission," said Harry, laughing a little. She remained stoic and left him alone in the outskirts of the forest, where he'd delivered what was apparently not the happiest of news.

"Oi! Potter!"

Harry's head jerked up from the leaf on the ground he'd been examining. He turned around and saw Draco Malfoy coming out of the Forbidden Forest.

"What were you doing in there?" asked Harry, curious and confused as to what else he had to say to Malfoy. They still didn't get along very well, though their relationship was certainly more cordial than it had been since he'd saved the boy's life.

"Nothing worth mentioning," Draco said. "Saw you out here with Weasley. She didn't look too happy. Did you break her heart just now?"

"Maybe. We broke up."

"Oh. Right. She'll pack it back in. You, I'd worry more."

Harry looked at him and stood up. They began walking to the castle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it's hard to say who actually cares about you and who just wants to glom onto your fame, right?" asked Draco, hands in pockets, looking and soundly casual. "I felt the same way when my family name mattered more."

"Yeah, but you dated Parkinson for years."

Draco snorted. "Hardly. Zabini knocked her up over the summer. They dropped out to start a family after a shotgun wedding."

"So you weren't together?"

"We were. But not really. Oh, come off it, Potter, you know I'm gay."

"Gay as a picnic basket, yeah," said Harry, feeling the corners of his mouth turn up. Normally, Malfoy wouldn't provoke such a reaction, but it was nice to know he wasn't the only one feeling pathetic around here.

"And you know the person I actually want to get off with is, well, off limits."

"What do you like about him, anyway?"

"Well, in sum, everything. But in specifics..." Draco's eyes glazed over slightly, and Harry attempted to calm his gag reflex. "He's dead brilliant, and powerful, and his voice ... I could listen to him blather on about essence of dittany all day, it's so smooth and sexy."

"Never thought I'd hear that word applied to Snape," said Harry offhand. "But I suppose whatever works for you is what works for you."

"He's told me it can never happen, though," said Draco, sighing. "Not even when I'm done at Hogwarts. It's something about my family and boundaries or some other shit like that."

"Oh." Not quite knowing what else to say, Harry settled on, "Sorry."

"Yeah, that's how it goes, I suppose." Draco looked down at his feet and said, "D'you know anyone else here who's, you know, like me?"

"How do you mean?" Harry already knew, but he wanted to hear it for himself.

"You know. Gay."

"I'm not sure if I should tell you. There's one in our year in Gryffindor. It isn't me," he said quickly. "But there's one there."

"Right. That's something, although I don't think I could date a Gryffindor." Draco grinned. "I can understand that rule."

"Right."

Draco and Harry walked the rest of the way in silence. As they entered the castle, Draco said, "You know, Potter, you're alright."

"Thanks," said Harry. "S'pose you are, too."

It was a strange way to end his day, to be sure, but Harry slept well that night, having capped things off not with Ginny but with a surprisingly pleasant, upfront Draco. The day that lay ahead seemed much more interesting, spending an evening with Snape and seeing if the professor could do anything about his recurring problems.

The day dragged. Harry's curiosity was at the forefront of his mind, and even Snape's compliment on the day's potion didn't distract him—at least, not nearly as much as it distracted Hermione.

"Since when did you get so good at Potions?" she asked him crossly on the way back to the common room.

"Dunno. It's new to me, too," Harry said. "Why? Need help?"

He knew it would get a rise out of her, and it did, but his grin seemed to temper her irritation. "Oh, sure, tops in the year, accepting help from you? I think I'll do fine on my own, thanks," she quipped as they passed Ron and Parvati, entwined, as was their new default position.

"Have you talked to him since Sunday, more than at breakfast yesterday?" asked Hermione.

"Nope. He seems preoccupied," Harry said. "Best not to chat with him when he gets in these moods."

"Oh, you have your meeting with Snape tonight, don't you?" said Hermione. She knew about Harry's dreams, though they were fuzzy to him, and he'd only given her the general idea of what went on when he went to sleep.

"I do. I hope he found something."

"I hope so, too." Hermione paused, then said, "Seamus is going out with Ginny now."

"Seamus is gay," said Harry.

"I know," said Hermione, sighing before both of them burst into near-manic laughter. People stopped and stared. Harry didn't care. Some things were worth getting worked up about.

"Well, I have looked into it, and what I am about to tell you might be uncomfortable, not just for you, but for me." Harry looked at Snape. The professor looked a tad nicer than usual, in plainclothes, with patches of what looked to be hairless skin peeking through the space between the buttons of his Oxford shirt. Harry looked at the professor's eyes, the color of polished wood, and found himself staring before forcing himself to look away.

Though he'd never admitted it to anyone, Harry had been looking at Snape that way for years now, around the time he began growing his own patchy chest hair and waking up with irritating, persistent erections. Sometimes he used the image of the professor, with perhaps a bit less clothing than was considered decent, to get rid of them, something that, even if he told Hermione about his crush, he'd never get around to mentioning. He'd done what he could to cover up his feelings, and it seemed to have worked, for the most part, though he sometimes found Snape looking at him peculiarly, and he wondered if the professor was feeling those same feelings, but he put it out of mind in favor of studies and thoughts of the future.

"What you are suffering from is simple, but it can be difficult to conquer," said Snape. "I will not ask you any personal questions about the matter, but my thought is that your focus was so refined, so targeted toward the Dark Lord that there were certain ... desires you had to push aside."

"Desires?" Harry said blankly. He thought he knew what Snape meant, but it couldn't be.

Or, according to Snape, it could. "Your sex drive comes into being sometime around the age of 15. In your case, you were already on something of a mission to destroy darkness. As a result, there was no time to tend to your new nature, and it will now nag at you if you do not choose to explore it." Snape cleared his throat and said, "What I am saying, Potter, is that you are ready for ... it."

"It?"

"Please do not make me say anymore," said Snape, his lip upturned slightly at one side, though he looked to be fending off a full-fledged grin. "What it boils down to, Potter, is you are a teenage boy, and you need to conduct yourself as such."

"Right. OK. But how?"

"That, I cannot advise you without overstepping certain boundaries." Snape broke eye contact then, and more than ever, Harry wondered about the true nature of the professor's feelings. Still, he said nothing.

"You do have a girlfriend?"

"Not anymore," said Harry.

"And did you..."

"No. Nothing," Harry said, rushing to answer the question. "She wanted to and I didn't, but maybe that was because—"

"I would guess it so," said Snape, nodding. "And nothing or no one before her, I presume?"

"No." Harry hesitated. "I thought that might be, y'know, normal."

"It is not out of the ordinary," Snape said. "But as a particularly ... emotional and passion-ruled person, your needs are stronger than those of others, and ought to be met. Have you tried ... other methods of ... quelling the desire?"

"Yes. Sometimes." Harry bit back the terrible, unusual urge to add, "You've helped there, sir."

"Well, I would say ... allow that to tide you over until you find a venture that is worthwhile. In the meantime..." Snape muttered, "Accio Corasconne!" under his breath. A lavender-colored potion whizzed into his hand. He gave it to Harry across the table.

"This is a dreamless sleep potion. Attached to the lid is an eyedropper. It only takes one drop to take effect. Any more, and you will be out for weeks on end. Use it every time you sleep, even when napping, until you feel satisfied enough to stop."

"Wow. Thanks. I ... I don't know what to say."

"Thanks is enough, Harry," said Snape. Harry's heart did a kind of breakdance in his chest when Snape used his first name—a rare occurrence; was this the very first time? "Good night."

"Thanks. Again." Harry stood and left the dungeon. He would've liked to stay and talk about something that wasn't his own sexual frustration, but what could he and Snape possibly have to talk about? He couldn't think of anything, except maybe how silly Draco was ... and that seemed inappropriate somehow, considering Harry's pathetic affections for Snape. For they were pathetic; they were useless, and the professor could never find him, scrappy, pasty, messy-haired Harry Potter, still a boy at 17, who'd probably never become more attractive than he was right now. Hermione reassured him he was good-looking, but he certainly wasn't good-looking enough for someone like...

Harry shook his head and entered the common room, where Seamus and Ginny were sharing an armchair that hardly had enough space for one, let alone the two of them. Hermione was sitting across from them, nose deep in her Arithmancy textbook.

"How'd it go?" she asked him quietly, looking up, sounding genuinely interested.

"Really well. Think everything's going to be alright," he said, just as quietly, choosing not to elaborate. "Have you ever heard of Corasconne?"

"Dreamless sleep potion. Did he give you some?"

"Yup. Said to give it a go from now on."

"Wonderful." Hermione smiled. "I'm glad for you. Oh, Luna was looking for you earlier. She said to go to her common room if you had the chance." Hermione waggled her eyebrows, adding, "She said to come alone."

"I don't think I can handle any surprises tonight. At least, not like that," said Harry, running a hand through his hair. It needed a cut badly. "Could you trim my hair, by the way?"

"Sure. Lead on."

The two of them walked to the prefects' bathroom.

"Can I ask you for some advice?" Hermione asked as Harry sat on a stool she'd conjured. Rather than transfiguring his hair, Hermione cut it in the traditional way—with scissors and a razor—and perhaps because they'd both been raised in the Muggle world, the two of them preferred it that way, both the process and how it looked in the end.

"What is it?"

Hermione hesitated. "It's Percy. He wants to have sex."

"You're not already?" Harry couldn't help asking. He'd assumed the two of them had done it long ago.

"I know. It's strange, but I've been putting it off. My question is ... do you think I'm ready?"

Harry laughed. "How should I know?"

"You know me better than anyone else, Harry. Well, except Percy, I suppose." Harry saw Hermione's reflection in the mirror. She was blushing and trying to hide her embarrassment over the topic. Having just spoken with the least likely person in the world about sex, he himself was unruffled.

"You're nearly an adult, Hermione," said Harry softly. "You can make the decision for yourself. Personally, I think you're probably ready for it. You really like Percy, don't you?"

"I love him," Hermione said, eyes fixed straight ahead. Harry decided not to doubt her.

"And you trust him, right?"

"Of course."

"Then just ... go for it." Harry smiled at her in the mirror. "This is looking good, by the way."

"Anyone in particular you want to notice you?" Hermione asked, grinning.

Harry blushed this time and said, "Just ... you know ... no one. The usual."

He wondered later, as he readied himself for sleep, if a crush on the Potions professor counted for anything anyway. On principle alone, Snape would never be interested in Harry. At least, Harry expected as much, judging from Snape's refusal to consider Draco as anything more than a student and thus verboten.

_There are exceptions to every rule_, a nagging voice sounded off in his head. Steadfastly, Harry ignored it and, as he finished brushing his teeth, swallowed a single drop of Corasconne. He felt the potion take effect immediately and barely had time to grunt "Good night" to Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus before drifting off to sleep.

Between Quidditch and Astronomy class, Harry realized that he'd have next to no time at all to study for that coming Friday's Transfiguration test, unless he gave up his Wednesday evening. So, rather than thanking Snape for the potion after class, he headed straight from the dungeon to the library.

He hadn't noticed Draco Malfoy following him, but the boy must have, judging by how quickly he plopped himself down across from Harry at one of the faraway tables in the back of the cavernous room. Harry looked up and nodded.

"Hi, Draco. Here to study for the Transfiguration exam?"

Draco nodded and said, casually as possible, it seemed, "I don't suppose you'd like to study together."  
Harry barked out a laugh and, after a warning glance from the ever-strict Madam Pince, said quietly, "What, like it's normal for us to work together?"

"Well, I'm the only Slytherin left in Transfiguration, aren't I?" said Malfoy, sounding annoyed. "And Ravenclaws are crap to study with, so smart assed all the time, and Hufflepuffs—well, I'd rather die. So, seeing as you're in the only other tolerable house, and you're a bit more, well, grounded than Granger..." Draco looked at Harry hopefully.

"Fine," said Harry with a sigh. "Where do we start?"

"How about not here?" said Malfoy, looking at Madam Pince. "The Slytherin common room's a much more comfortable place, and probably empty, since it's afternoon and Quidditch practice and Dueling Club are going on."

"Slytherin still has a Dueling Club?"

"Yeah. Guess it's kind of exclusive. So, fancy a move?"

"Sure," said Harry, holding back another sigh and following Draco to the Slytherin common room.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco was nothing short of amazed that no one had noticed the way he'd been treating Harry Potter lately. Sure, it had been less than a week since he'd chosen to act on his feelings, feelings that had budded and grown a great deal since he first noticed the boy's gorgeous eyes and newly toned body at the beginning of term. But it had to have been obvious, these lingering looks that lingered a little longer with each passing day, the twitching of his fingers when he thought about what the pale skin must've felt like to the touch. Sure, he'd experimented with Blaise and a Durmstrang boy or two years ago, but that was never so pleasurable as even the thought of touching Potter. And it wasn't just because the boy had saved his life ... twice. It was different. Potter was a fighter now. And there was something hot to that.

Draco had often wondered, even before the crush, about Harry's sexuality. The boy always looked bored by his girlfriend, one of the many dreadfully unattractive, pockmarked, orange-headed Weasleys. Draco figured there might be some reason beyond her ... well, just _her_ for his disinterest.

Maybe he'd find out now. He'd planned things out carefully. Potions class ended at 3. Studying would last at least half an hour, and 3:30 marked the end of Quidditch practice and Dueling Club. Students would begin pouring in, and Draco would suggest a change of scenery, his room, perhaps? And then, then, he'd make his move. What that move would be ... well, he hadn't quite settled on that. But he'd get there, and he practically salivated at the thought of what might transpire after that.

He looked at Potter now, sitting next to him in another of the Slytherin common room's giant, room-for-two armchairs. Draco thought idly of times he'd spent with Blaise in these chairs, late at night, after Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep and Snape was no longer prowling the corridors. Blaise was a good kisser, and something of a good friend, and Draco missed him; like many Slytherins, the boy had left Hogwarts after the last battle, leaving Draco no outlet for unattached fooling around.

Letting his gaze linger on Potter, he wondered whether he'd be willing to attach to someone, anyone. Draco knew the answer to that already: yes, Snape or Harry, and in a heartbeat. But for the moment, he'd browse through his Transfiguration textbook, ask Potter a question or two, to kill the time between now and...

Time was sufficiently killed, it seemed, as Slytherins began trailing back into the room, in pairs and in groups. One or two greeted Draco; most looked at Potter oddly, and Draco would reply with a shrug.

"Clubs must be out now," he said to Potter. "I'm not quite done. Are you?"

"I'd still like to go over some of these incantations," said Harry.

"Let's head up to my dorm, then," Draco said, forcing a casual tone. "I have my own room now, actually, so none of this going on there."

"Right." Harry nodded. Draco convinced himself to quit looking at the boy and led him up the stairs.

Draco was surprised when, instead of taking one of the three empty beds arranged around the room, Harry sat next to him on his. It would make things easier, he supposed, wondering if Harry had concocted some plans of his own. But Potter seemed innocent enough as he asked for help on some pronunciation issues. Soon, they were hard at work, transfiguring bedposts into bassoons and robes into rose bouquets.

"Have you ever tried human Transfiguration?" Harry asked Draco, tossing the Snitch he'd just made from his quill idly into the air and catching it again.

"Not yet. Watched my dad do it sometimes. He was an unregistered Animagus."

"Mine too," said Harry, grinning. "What's your dad turn into?"

"A snake." Draco snorted. "How original. What did yours?"

"A stag."

"Like your patronus, then."

Harry nodded.

"Mine's a little white weasel." Draco scowled, but couldn't help smiling as Potter broke into laughter.

"Actually..." Draco stretched out his hand and murmured an incantation. His fingers receded and became more rodent-like, until the whole of his arm, up to his elbow, looked more like a weasel's than his own.

"That's as far as I get, though."

"Brilliant," said Harry, sounding more than adequately impressed and feeding Draco's ego—and libido, to that end. Damn those eyes. "I don't think even Hermione's got that down yet."

"Granger can't always be the best at everything," said Draco, half-smiling.

"'Spose not. I'm better than her at Defence, always have been. She's scared of the unknown. It's cute, really."

"I'm sure," Draco said.

They sat in companionable silence for a bit, reading their spellbooks and chewing on their quills. Draco found the firewhisky he'd hidden at the bottom of his trunk over the summer and offered some to Potter. Harry accepted, and the two clinked glasses and downed them in one go.

"Next one'll go slower," said Harry, looking flushed. "I don't hold my liquor so well."

"Never would've guessed," Draco said dryly, pouring another round. "I've got some Chocolate Cauldrons around here somewhere, some pasties, too..."

Soon, the two were completely engrossed in refreshments rather than their studies.

"I'm stuffed," announced Potter after polishing off half the package of Chocolate Cauldrons.

"I should hope so," said Draco, having eaten quite a bit himself, but not nearly as much as Harry. Just then, Harry reached forward, pointing to the corner of Draco's mouth.

"You have something there," said Harry. Draco licked his lips. Harry laughed—giggled, really—and said, "No, let me..."

Harry moved his index finger around Draco's mouth. Draco tried to suppress a moan of pleasure; having not been touched in some time, the smallest gesture felt ... well, incredible, really.

Without thinking, Draco put his own hand on Harry's wrist. Drawing it ever so slightly closer to his mouth, he kissed the boy's fingertips, one by one. Harry looked surprised, but not put off, by the gesture. He closed his eyes.

"That ... feels good," he said quietly. "So, is this why you've been so nice to me lately?"

Draco laughed. "Good on you, putting that one together."

"Oh, shut it," said Harry, and leaning over, he kissed Draco on the mouth.

It went on like that, for a while. Harry didn't want to go any further than kissing, but kiss they did, enough that Draco felt certain his lips would be sore for the next few days, and it'd be a wrench to cover the dark purple spot on his neck. At least, that was what he thought till Harry muttered some incantation and it cleared right up.

"Now I have no proof that this actually happened," Draco said, mock whining.

"I don't think you're going to forget. The question now, though, is this: do we want it to happen again?" Harry studied Draco carefully, so much so that Draco felt naked and wondered idly if it would be so bad to be unclothed right now.

"I do. I've wanted it for a while," he said quietly. "But you?"

"Well, I hadn't thought of this before. No offense," said Harry quickly. "It just ... the thought ... it never occurred to me that _you _would be interested in _me_."

"Stranger things have happened," Draco said. "For instance, you've saved my life twice. Thanks for that."

"Don't mention it." Harry smiled and kissed Draco on the forehead. Draco smiled back, feeling goopy.

"So ... do we go on, then?" Draco asked hopefully.

"Yes." Harry sounded decisive as he continued, "But we don't tell anyone. Not yet. I'm not ashamed or anything, I just—"

Draco nodded. "I understand. There's time for that later."

"Well. Good. Great. Good night, then," said Harry and, after one quick kiss, he left the room, with Draco in a haze of contentment and a still-hanging-on stupor from firewhisky.


	4. Chapter 4

Something was different now, and Severus could tell.

The lines on Harry Potter's face had cleared up significantly; the boy looked fit and happy as ever, chattering with his friends before and after every class. Potter, it seemed, was satisfied with life, dreamless sleep or otherwise. Actually, some days, it didn't look as though Potter had slept at all, with light bags beneath his eyes and the occasional yawn behind his hand, but even then he was more chipper than most.

Severus was just curious enough to keep the boy after class for a few minutes one day, to ask if he'd kept taking the Corasconne or if it had become unnecessary.

"Oh, yeah. That was working really well for me, but I haven't used it in two weeks, and I'm doing fine. Actually..." Potter looked back and forth, as though he thought someone might be listening in on their conversation, and continued, "Could you look in on my head again? Please? Just to see that everything's settled?"

"I suppose that would be prudent," said Severus. "Tonight? 8 pm?"

"Brilliant. Thanks." Potter practically skipped out of the dungeon, and Severus began to worry about what he may see that night. And as it turned out, he didn't like what he saw.

It was Malfoy, over and over again, Malfoy disrobing, Malfoy spreading his legs, Malfoy licking his lips and leaning in for God knows what. And while the mental pictures may have made Potter happy, they only served to turn Severus' stomach.

"Well ... I think you may already know what, or who, is clouding your mind's eye, Mr. Potter," said Severus after stepping back out of Potter's subconscious. Potter nodded, smart enough not to smile. "And it looks as though that person is, ah, serving the purpose about which we previously spoke." Potter nodded again, though this time, he had more trouble covering his upbeat expression. "So, I think that will be all." Potter walked out and Severus shut himself into his private quarters, feeling like hitting his head against a hard surface.

Why was it getting to him? He knew he was attracted to Potter. He just hadn't imagined that his attraction would give way to jealousy—jealousy of Draco Malfoy, come to that.


	5. Chapter 5

It was lucky, Harry thought, that none of his male classmates had stuck with Divination. He imagined that under the influence of Corasconne, which he had carefully applied to each of their toothbrushes before they went to sleep each night, dream interpretation might not go so well. Harry had found that Corasconne not only provided dreamless sleep, it also keptyou asleep no matter what was happening around you. So if, say, you wanted to meet your boyfriend in the middle of the night for some, oh, activities of some kind, then no one would hear you slip out of bed and leave the room.

In fact, he discovered, no one would even stir.

It wasn't a nightly thing, him and Draco and the bedroom and some lubricant Draco had found in the back room at the Apothecary. But it happened twice a week at first, then three times, and now four, where Harry assumed it would stay for at least some time. Four nights meant a bit of a rest period in between, a fun time for smiles and winks across classrooms and casual hellos in front of everyone else.

Snape knew now. That was true. And he hadn't seemed ... well, he hadn't quite reacted at all, had he? It was an in and out meeting, Snape looked and saw Draco and that was that. There was something other than apathy, though. There had to have been. Snape had looked a different kind of dour from usual. It was almost like he was disappointed. And that bothered Harry. He knew why, but he tried to forget that.

There was something else bothering Harry, too, and it had nothing to do with Snape.

He'd noticed it the night before, when he and Draco were lying together in the Astronomy tower. Normally, the silence between them felt comfortable. Now, it was just ... awkward. Harry felt the sound of nothing buzzing in his ears as he searched for a topic of conversation. He thought of bringing up Quidditch, but decided that might be a sore spot; Draco had gotten out of practice and wasn't on his house team anymore, while Harry was captaining for Gryffindor.

"Charms test on Friday," said Draco suddenly. He seemed to have noticed the silence, too.

"Oh. Yeah. I told Hermione I'd study with her," Harry said apologetically. "I could tell her that you want to study with us."

Draco snorted. "You could. If you wanted to be an idiot."

"Why would that make me an idiot?" Harry asked, a bit annoyed with the boy lying next to him. He turned to face Draco, propping himself up on his elbow. "Hermione's my friend, and she knows that you and I are, you know, getting along."

"That is all she knows, right?"

"Why does that matter so much to you?"

"You were the one who didn't want anyone to know," said Draco, sounding as irritated as Harry felt. "Damn it, Potter. Sometimes I wonder if this is even worth it."

Neither of them said anything for a few long minutes. Then Harry re-dressed himself after murmuring some incantations to clean himself up. He left without saying goodbye.

Draco didn't talk to him the next day, or the day after that. Harry kept his mood positive throughout, doing a bang-up job in Potions and laughing with Hermione over the stories Ginny had been sharing regarding Seamus.

"He's a perfect gentleman, she says," Hermione told Harry during their Thursday evening study session in the library. "Doesn't even try to kiss her most of the time."

"Can't imagine why," Harry said, smirking.

"And he gives her the most thoughtful gifts."

"That's because he understands the fairer sex. You might even say he identifies with them."

Hermione stifled her laughter. "Oh, piss it, we know this book backward and forward. You know, Harry, once in a while, you could tell me what's wrong with you."

"What?" Harry knew playing dumb wouldn't take him far, but this wasn't something he wanted to talk somewhere so public.

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about."

"Well." What harm was there in telling her, anyway? "Let's take a walk."

Hermione wasn't entirely shocked by the news that Harry was, or had been, with another boy; that it was Draco left her a bit taken aback.

"I knew you didn't hate him anymore, but I didn't expect..."

"Neither did I. And I don't know if I can anymore."

"Do you think he was serious, then?" Hermione asked, sounding concerned.

"I don't know." Harry looked at Hermione. "Thanks. For, you know. Not being weird about this."

Hermione laughed. "Harry, we've dated three Weasleys between us. How weird can I be?"

Harry laughed, too, and they walked together. This time, Harry thought, the silence was comfortable.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco had gotten pretty good at feeling sorry for himself.

Potter had been a fine distraction, but had made him entirely too happy. He enjoyed sinking into a morose, nearly catatonic state much more than snogging some irresistibly attractive, surprisingly intelligent, shockingly witty boy. At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he buried his nose in his Charms spellbook.

"Hello, Draco."

He looked up. He knew solitude in the Slytherin common room wasn't going to last long, but he'd figured on more than 15 minutes of studying without interruption. But apparently that wasn't going to be, as standing before him was Astoria Greengrass, one of three seventh-year Slytherins left at Hogwarts.

"Hi, Astoria," he said. Deciding he could pull out of his malaise long enough to make a conversation, Draco asked lamely, "Ready for the Charms exam?"

Astoria laughed and tossed her long, silky-looking black hair over her shoulder. Draco noticed, not for the first time, that she was very pretty, though naturally, that didn't do much for him. "It's the last exam before holidays," she said breezily. "Flitwick's always soft on us around Christmas."

"That's true." Draco closed the book on his lap.

Astoria grinned. "That's more like it. So, going home for break?"

"Yeah," said Draco unenthusiastically. His parents hadn't been getting on very well since the last battle, and Malfoy Manor still reeked of ... evil, he supposed, though terming it felt off, no matter how accurate it might be.

"So am I." The Greengrass estate was two blocks away from the Malfoys'. "Daphne and her new boyfriend, Cormac, I think, will be there, so that will be ... interesting."

"Cormac McLaggen?" Draco snickered.

"All I know is he's Gryffindor, and my parents aren't too happy about that," said Astoria. "Anyway, they'll be distracted. I'll probably be quite bored. Did you want to spend a few days together?"

Draco refrained from letting his mouth drop open, though it was a struggle. He understood flirting, but this seemed a bit forward, even for a Slytherin so aware of her own appeal.

"I'm not very exciting," he said. Astoria laughed.

"I'm sure you'll be exciting enough for me," she practically cooed, and Draco wondered if there was a potion out there powerful enough to turn a poof around the other away.

He owled Harry that night, though he could have just as easily slept him a note in Charms class before he left for the manor. It was a short note, explaining that he was unsatisfied, and there was someone else—just hurtful enough for Potter to understand that he was missing out on something great.

Potter didn't look hurt at the exam the next day. And that didn't bother Draco. Not at all.


	7. Chapter 7

There were never too many students who stayed at Hogwarts for the holiday break, but it didn't surprise Severus very much when Harry Potter was one of them. From what Severus understood, Potter was in the process of selling Grimmauld Place, having handed it over to a realtor who was having a hard time finding a new owner, even with the tagline "The once and future headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix." And with his distance from the Weasley family, it was not altogether shocking that he had opted out of his probable invitation to the Burrow. The only other option would have been the Granger family Christmas, and at the last dinner at the Weasleys' home, Molly had practically burst with pride when she told everyone that Percy would be visiting with Granger and her parents over the holiday. Percy, Severus thought, had always been a git, but an admittedly brilliant one, and the pairing made sense.

Severus supposed that any relationship Potter had with Draco Malfoy did not extend to meet-ups with Lucius and Narcissa at the manor. Actually, he recalled, Malfoy and Potter had been ignoring each other, and quite obviously, during the last week of class. Potter had brewed his best potion yet, and Severus had told him so—quietly as possible, but he'd said something nonetheless, and both Granger and Malfoy heard it. Granger grinned, Malfoy scowled, and Potter tried to hold back what was obviously a great deal of excitement.

Idly, Severus wondered if Potter and Malfoy had broken things off, then realized it was almost certain they had. Otherwise, Malfoy would've at least kept a straight face over Potter's success, and they would've exchanged at least one wretched look during the lesson...

But no matter. It was Christmas Eve now. Severus had plans to go down to the first of four feasts that would occur that holiday break. Dumbledore had called them "the house elves' greatest gastronomic triumph"; Severus wouldn't be so flowery in his description, but he had to admit that the food was damn good. After putting on his dress robes, he went up to the Great Hall and took a seat between Kingsley and Minerva. Potter was seated opposite Kingsley, and Lavender Brown was next to Potter, clutching a toddler who kept squirming in Potter's direction.

"I think Teddy wants you again, Harry," said Lavender, releasing her hold on the child. Potter looked pleased as the small boy fastened his chubby arms around his guardian's neck—for this, Severus had just realized, was Teddy Lupin, Potter's godson. Normally, Severus recalled, Teddy stayed with Bill and Fleur Weasley at Shell Cottage. Severus hadn't even noticed the couple sitting and chatting with Hagrid and Madame Maxime or, more accurately, Madame Hagrid.

Food appeared on the plates in front of them, and after taking a few hearty bites, Kingsley said to Severus, "I've been teaching Harry how to conjure a talking Patronus. Getting good, he is."

Severus nodded. "I didn't realize this was a skill you did not already possess, Mr. Potter," he said.

Minerva laughed, a rare and welcome sound. "Severus, it's Christmas, for Merlin's sake. Call him Harry."

Potter—Harry?—grinned and said, "No, actually, I never got that far in learning. I didn't even know Patronuses could talk until Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"And what a time to find out," said Fleur in her still-thick French accent, leaning into the conversation. Teddy shrieked and Fleur lazily flicked her wand, levitating him across the table.

"Sweetie, why do you have to do that with him?" Bill asked, sounding more amused than exasperated as Teddy shrieked with delight and landed in Fleur's arms.

"Because it's fun for both of us," she said. "Anyway, Bill and I 'av been considering 'aving another wedding. Maybe without dark forces this time."

"That sounds fair," said Potter agreeably. "Same guest list?"

"But for those who are no longer with us. Actually, Severus, would you give us the pleasure of joining? You were always one of Bill's favorite instructors," said Fleur kindly.

If he had been a favorite professor of Bill's, that was news to him. Though Severus was mostly caught off guard by Fleur's request, he was also, admittedly, deeply flattered. It was a kind gesture, completely unnecessary, and seemingly, quite sincere.

"Of course," said Severus. Fleur smiled, her teeth shining brilliantly, and turned back to a rapid-fire conversation in French with Madame Max—Hagrid.

"Back to Harry's training," said Kingsley as the second course appeared on their plates.

"How much food _is _there?" asked Potter, sounding so dumbfounded that even Severus had to choke back a laugh. He settled on a mildly amused expression. Potter grinned, directly at him, and Severus turned his head abruptly to Kingsley.

"I'm good with a charm, but dueling is not my strong point," said Kingsley. "I know that you're quite familiar with it. I was wondering if you would be willing to show Harry some of your, you know, tricks of the trade."

Severus paused. What a great idea, more time alone with Potter. That had turned out so well last time, when he'd been forced to view images of Draco Malfoy in varying states of undress. But the looks on both Potter's and Kingsley's faces were both so expectant that he found himself saying, "I suppose that would work."

"Could we start tomorrow, then?" Potter asked, so enthusiastically that Severus wondered what else could possibly appeal to him about dueling lessons, beyond the obvious "becoming a more competent dueler."

"Tomorrow is Christmas," Severus pointed out dryly.

"Right. Well. Two days, then?" Potter grinned cheekily.

"I suppose so. 7 pm. I will meet with you in the dungeon, and we will use my quarters for the lesson."

Potter nodded, still looking as though he'd received a new puppy, or broom, or whatever it was that boy—young man—no, boy liked so much. Severus excused himself, turning down Kingsley's invitation to get drinks with him and Hestia. Hestia, who was sitting with Pomona Sprout, looked at Severus hopefully, but still, he went back down to the dungeon, where he stayed for the better part of the next 48 hours.

"Happy Christmas, one day late," said Potter with a lopsided grin as he walked into the dungeons—three minutes early, Severus noted. "You weren't at the feast last night."

"No. I had my fill at the Christmas Eve dinner. My house elf, actually, sent me dinner as a gift," Severus said.

"You have a house elf?"

"Most wizards do."

"Oh. Right."

"And same to you," said Severus hurriedly, trying to sound composed and failing. "Christmas, that is."

Potter looked confused.

"Happy Christmas."

The boy grinned. "Oh! Right. Thanks."

Severus nodded briskly. "Should we get started, then?"

Harry—as he was learning to call the boy, however grudgingly, if only for Minerva and Kingsley's sake—didn't need nearly as much instruction as any other wizard his age might. That might, Severus thought wryly, have something to do with his having dueled the Dark Lord on more than one occasion. But his technique wasn't perfect. He forgot himself if he felt too secure, and Severus was able to disarm him multiple times. It didn't seem to distress the boy, though. He kept on fighting, and the training session went on for nearly two hours before Severus noticed any time had passed at all.

"It's 9 o'clock," he noted as Harry squared his shoulders and faced forward for another round. "I think it may be time to take a break."

Harry nodded and looked around the room, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. "You've got a nice set-up here," he said, a bit lamely. "It's cozy."

Severus took in his quarters. They were, Dumbledore had once admitted to him, the nicest among any of the professors' living spaces; Severus had, in addition to a nice shower and tub setup, a fireplace, a stove, a bed magicked to mold to its occupant's body, and room enough for a dining set and two exceedingly comfortable armchairs.

"One of the perks, I suppose," said Severus and, surprising himself, he asked, "Would you like some tea?"


	8. Chapter 8

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"Well, take a seat, then."

"Where?" Harry's mouth was dry, and he understood then why he never could've stayed with Malfoy: when he was attracted to someone, he cared more about how he looked, and how he sounded, and how he ... affected that person. With Malfoy, he hadn't cared at all. He'd worn his glasses again. He'd eaten more sweets and played less Quidditch. He'd left clothes unwashed and hair uncombed, because in truth, he didn't really care about Malfoy. If Malfoy had meant to make him jealous with that last note, it hadn't worked. Now, this was somewhere he'd much rather be, with someone he'd much rather...

What, exactly? What did he want from this untouchable person, who wouldn't want to touch him even if he could? Harry wasn't quite sure. Actually, right now, he wasn't even sure if he should take a wooden chair or that irresistibly comfy-looking armchair.

"Use one of the armchairs," said Snape. "I trust you are not as clumsy as you once were." As Harry sat down, Snape handed him a mug. Harry took a sip. There was some kick to the tea, but not necessarily in a bad way.

"What's in this?" he asked as Snape settled into the other armchair with a mug his own.

"Just a typical black tea with amaretto," said Snape, taking a much longer drink than Harry would be able to. "Oh, that's right. I suppose as your professor, I should not be encouraging the consumption of alcohol."

"I'm 18," said Harry, realizing how petulant he might sound a second too late as Snape smirked.

"Very well, then," Snape said, tilting his mug toward Harry. Harry clinked his against it. "To your health."

"This is delicious," said Harry after another tentative sip, then a less tentative drink, then a completely unhinged swig. "Is there more?"

"Done so soon?" Snape looked amused, though Harry could never quite tell with the professor. He'd be terrific at poker.

"It's good," said Harry, somewhat apologetically, as Snape rose and took Harry's mug from his hand. Their fingers brushed together for a moment, leaving Harry's hand feeling as though it'd been set on fire. Snape topped off both their drinks and brought them back, again brushing his fingers against Harry's as he handed one to him. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think the contact had been deliberate.

"You didn't spend your holiday break at the Weasleys' this year," Snape said. Harry wondered how he knew that that'd happened in the past. Then he remembered that Snape was friendly, if Snape could be, with the Weasley parents, so of course he'd know a minor detail here and there about Harry's life in relation to the family. It didn't represent a vested interest or something. Though it'd be nice if it did.

"Yeah, well, Ron's been kind of off lately, and Ginny still isn't so sweet on me since we broke up, and I really wanted to learn that charm, so..." Harry shrugged and sipped at the amaretto tea, trying to savor the drink this time. "It seemed like a better idea to stay here."

"I take it, then, that you did not receive an invitation to Malfoy Manor?"

Harry laughed. "No. Malfoy—Draco and I had sort of a disagreement. We're not exactly as friendly as we were."

"And you were very friendly for a time," Snape said quietly. He looked at Harry, and Harry felt that pinched feeling in his chest that he always did when he got a good look at the professor's eyes. So brown, so much deeper than they looked from far away...

"Yeah, it didn't mean anything," Harry said, simultaneously recognizing that the alcohol had taken its effect and he was talking to a professor, an authority figure, in a way that could be described as too candidly.

"Really," said Snape, more a statement than a question.

"I just needed a release, you know?" Harry said, sitting up straight and trying to engage Snape in some sustained eye contact. He succeeded—thank God for his mum's genetic gift—and went on, "And he was interested in something, and he came on to me, and I thought, well, you'd said that I needed something like that, so I just thought, OK, brilliant, this'll do."

"When I said that, Draco Malfoy was not exactly what I had in mind," Snape said quietly.

"Oh?" said Harry and, trying to flirtatious, asked, "What did you have in mind, then?"

Snape looked down. When he was as close as this, Harry could see that he wasn't quite so sallow-complected or greasy-haired as he looked from far away. Rather, he was quite ... clean-looking, well-kept. _Oh, sod it,_ thought Harry, he's sexy. _To you, at least. And you knew that already._

"I think I will be retiring for the night," Snape said, still quiet. "I trust you are not too intoxicated to find your way back to the tower."

"No. Just intoxicated enough to say something dumb. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you that. You're my professor."

"It is fine, Harry, if you wish to confide in me," said Snape, sounding as though he was choosing his words very carefully. "I know you have ... lost many of the people you looked up to. Not that I assume you look up to me."

"I do."

Harry had spoken without thinking, and surprise registered on Snape's face as he went on, "Knowing what I know ... I think you're one of the bravest people I've ever met."

The look on Snape's face was the closest thing to tenderness Harry had ever seen from him. There were so many ways he wished to respond to that look—a hug, a hand on his arm, a kiss on his cheek, _something_, anything, any way to touch him. Surely it would make the gesture ring even more sincere. But Harry didn't move.

"Thank you." Snape paused and looked at him. "Not just for that, either."

Harry nodded and, having no idea what to say, stood up. "I should be going now, right?"

"Same time tomorrow evening? Your skills are sound, but they need fine-tuning."

"Right. Great. Brilliant. Night."

"Good night."

On returning to the dorm, Harry found a letter on his pillow. Ron's untidy handwriting was instantly recognizable. Harry frowned. He and Ron hadn't spoken much to each other in the last few months. Once Ron started dating Parvati, he became a bit distant and cold. Harry figured that Ron thought Harry had chosen Hermione over him, which he more or less had. That had less to do with Ron than it did Parvati, who didn't let Ron out of her sight during their shared waking hours. And Harry hadn't quite had the chance to explain that, though he didn't regret it. Spending time with Hermione, Percy, Luna, and the other boys in his house had been just as fun as Ron had ever been, if a bit less reckless. Shaking his head, Harry read the note.

Dear Harry,

I know we haven't been getting on as well lately, and I'm sorry. I've been a bit distracted by figuring out what I want to do with my life now that I'm almost done at Hogwarts. Actually, I am done at Hogwarts, and I wanted you to be the first to know (outside my family, of course).

Next month, I'll be moving to Romania. A spot's opened up where Charlie works with the dragons, and he asked me if I could fill it—the sooner the better. So I won't be taking my NEWTs. I'm surprised, actually, at how happy Mum was. I never know what's going to satisfy her.

I'm breaking up with Parvati soon. I like her, but I don't see any real future with her. I bet that's how you felt about Ginny, wasn't it? She's fine, by the way. Still hasn't figured out about Seamus. We'll let them have their fun, I suppose.

You really are my best friend, Harry. Are you on for one last meet-up in Hogsmeade? I don't leave till 10 January. Let me know when you're available.

Sincerely,

Ron

If it was possible to be surprised at a lack of surprise, then Harry was. Ron was all but gone from his life anyway. What difference did it make if he was in another country? The thought, for a moment, saddened Harry, who shook his head and rummaged through his desk for the bottle of Corasconne. Even if he wasn't shocked, he was far from happy, and he couldn't imagine his dreams would be the pleasantest that night.

On waking, Harry went down to the pitch to do laps, as it were. Madam Hooch had given him permission to use it through the holidays, and he hadn't taken advantage of her offer. Now, he was glad he did. It cleared his mind a great deal and allowed him to plan out the day's schedule: owl Hermione to see when she'd be coming back, hopefully for New Year's; owl Ron to tell him he'd be at the Weasleys from the 31st through the day they headed back to Hogwarts; play chess with Lavender, who'd seemed exceedingly lonely as her parents left her for the holidays for a romantic jaunt to Mexico; and do a bit of studying for Transfiguration before his lesson with Snape. Human transfiguration still wasn't sticking for him, no matter how hard he tried. Grudgingly, he'd had to admit to himself that Malfoy's inclination toward transforming himself was far stronger than his looked to ever be. Maybe, he thought idly, he could ask Snape for help in that realm as well. Now that he knew he could look to Snape as a kind of confidant, he was more comfortable with the idea of asking for a bit of extra aid in other areas. Right now, though, he didn't want to let that train of thought carry on any more than was necessary.

The afternoon progressed comfortably. Even chess with Lavender was fun, as she told Harry about how single-minded her best friend had become since taking up with Ron.

"Padma and I talk about it all the time. She's got a boyfriend, too—Terry Boot, he left a couple years ago and he works at the Ministry now. But she's nowhere near as irritating." Lavender laughed. "Reminds me of how he and I were, actually, when we were sixth years."

"That was pretty awful," said Harry.

"I know. I feel stupid about it sometimes."

"Don't," said Harry automatically. "You were younger. That kind of thing ... just happens."

"It didn't with you and Ginny," Lavender pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I didn't actually care that much about her."

"Everyone thought you'd get married."

"We're better apart," Harry said. "Check."

"I'm rubbish at this." Lavender sighed.

"Well, that's OK. I need a bit of extra confidence." They laughed and soon moved to other parts of the common room for study. As Harry was having trouble with Transfiguration, there were several Charms Lavender couldn't seem to get the hang of. They sat in the squashy armchairs in companionable silence and went down to dinner together before the clock struck 7.

When it did, Harry's already good mood picked up even more. No matter how much he denied it to himself, there was a bit of extra flutter in his stomach whenever he was around Snape. Snape was in plainclothes again, his black robes slung lazily over a chair at the table and heavy black boots—two pairs—strewn about the floor. The Oxford and, to Harry's surprise, jeans he'd switched into suited him well, especially the way the shirt tightened against a chest that Harry was sure had some more muscle to it than you'd expect under those heavy flowing robes. Harry'd be lying to himself if he said he hadn't taken some extra care in his appearance that night, in a plain black, overly tight t-shirt and jeans that looked a lot like Snape's.

"Looks like we've been shopping in the same Muggle stores," Harry observed.

"Hm?"

He gestured to their pants.

"Oh. So it would seem, yes. I don't go to Muggle locales often, just bookstores and clothing shops."

"Bookstores? What kind of Muggle books do you read?"

"I believe Neil Gaiman may secretly be a wizard," said Snape, sounding a bit wry. "His novels would certainly indicate as such."

"Oh, I was able to nick some of his books from Dudley's room when I was younger. Dudley's my cousin. I don't know why they bought him books. He probably couldn't read them. But I really liked them. Those and Roald Dahl."

"I recommend both Gaiman's and Dahl's adult novels. I believe you're emotionally ready now for the offspring of gods and expeditions to find fallen stars."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Oh, I had a question for you. As it turns out, I'm crap with human transfiguration. I wondered if you could give me some help with that. You know, since ... You know." Harry didn't quite know what he was trailing off into with that one, but Snape seemed to understand.

"One might wonder why you are asking me rather than Professor McGonagall," Snape pointed out.

"She'd think it was cheating," said Harry, grinning.

"Very true. I am not exemplary at human transfiguration, but I know my way around it, and would be happy to assist you in becoming competent at it."

Harry didn't realize Snape would ever be happy to do anything. Still, he thanked him, and they proceeded with his lesson.

Harry always knew Snape had a good, if not excellent handle on how to duel. But he didn't realize how good the professor would be at identifying a pupil's weaknesses. As they worked out the kinks in Harry's technique, Snape smoothly pointed out when Harry was slipping, and the patterns of the times he failed. Harry, he said, was good at dueling. It would just take some work for him to be great.

"Thank you," said Harry. "Really. I thought you thought my ego was too big already, though."

Snape nearly smiled and Harry's heart leapt so high that he was sure you could see some movement through his shirt.

"Actually, Pot—Harry, you are much less arrogant than you once were. A lot can happen between the ages of 13 and 18." Snape looked away and Harry blushed slightly as the man asked, "Would you like some tea? I believe we're done for the night."

**Author's Note: I didn't mean to publish the previous draft of this chapter. There's out of character, and there's _unreasonably, ridiculously, unbelievably _out of character. Give them time, wait and see, maybe they'll be together someday... Also, now you have an explanation of why Ron hasn't been around, to some extent. Hope that clears things up.**


	9. Chapter 9

The feeling Severus couldn't shake was that it was wrong somehow, spending all this extra time with a boy for whom he felt substantially more affection than he should. But, he reminded himself, he'd never once shown that affection, even as he acted kinder. If anything, that was establishing himself as something much different from what he wanted. Now, he was nearly a friend, not just an authority figure with a semi-permanent scowl and a fondness for Muggle clothing and books.

He put less amaretto in Harry's drink now. A hearty amount hadn't done the boy good, it seemed, and he was willing enough to give parts of himself up as it was. Parts of himself ... Severus ignored that mental slip and brought the drinks over to the armchairs, where Harry had curled up, almost catlike. Severus attempted to push the word "cute" out of mind as he sat, stock-still, next to the boy.

"So, I was wondering something. It's kind of personal, so you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Harry looked amused, and somehow, Severus knew what was coming.

"Little embarrasses me. Go on."

"Students getting crushes on you, has it happened before? I mean, I'm sure Draco's not the first."

"You're a flatterer, Mr. Potter." Harry blushed, and Severus, feeling satisfied, continued, "Yes, it has happened before, and somewhat inexplicably, it has always been male students."

"It's the long hair," said Harry with certainty. "You're an easier transition from girl to boy than others."

Severus laughed. Harry continued, "Besides, you're the only professor who's really..." He trailed off, blushing, and Severus ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he deduced what it was Harry now avoided saying.

"Have you seen any since? Sorry if that's too personal."

In fact, it nearly was, but Severus told Harry anyway. "Yes, the one whose pursuit was most dogged. He's grown up into a fine young man. But I'm not, ah, looking for a relationship."  
Severus gauged the hidden disappointment in Harry and was flattered, but still told himself he was imagining things.

"Oh, I meant to tell you. I need to take a few days off of practice," said Harry apologetically. "Hermione and Percy are in town, and then Ron is. I'm going into Hogsmeade to see them."

"Not all together, then?"

"Ron won't really talk to them now that they're together."

Severus hadn't known that Percy and Hermione had taken up together, but he was unsurprised. If he had a favorite Weasley, then Percy was it. He treated rules as they ought to be treated, and he was perfectly respectful to even those for whom he had no affection. Hermione was cut from the same cloth, and Severus had no real ill will toward her, though he certainly wouldn't admit that to Harry. Meanwhile, he was even less surprised at the younger Weasley's petulance, and at what Harry told him next.

"Ron's leaving Hogwarts for Romania," said Harry, sounding blasé about his best friend's departure. "He'll be working with dragons with Charlie."

"And you are not disappointed?"

"Not terribly," Harry said, sounding like he was admitting a dark secret. "He's my friend, but he's hardly been that since he broke up with Hermione. Hermione ... she's better company a lot of the time. Smarter, of course, and also a lot more ... well, she acts like she's 18."

Severus wondered at the way Harry had begun to open up to him in these last few days. But then, he thought, what other adult did Harry have for such a purpose? Everyone he'd previously looked up to—Dumbledore, Black, Lupin—was dead and gone, and the other adults in his life, Hagrid and Minerva and even Kingsley, weren't exactly the confiding type. Severus was safe. Who would he tell? There was no one, and that had to offer a certain sense of comfort to the boy. Young man. Whatever it was that Potter had become.

"All of that is true. I understand your plight. As for taking nights off, I believe that is advisable anyway, as transfiguration will take a bit more ... rejuvenation, I suppose, than simple dueling. Shall we resume on the 30th?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure anymore if I'll be gone for New Year's."

"Well, as you may have expected, I will be here."

Harry grinned. "Right. Maybe then, too. And we can get back to dueling."

"Harry, you hardly need more instruction there." Harry's grin widened. "We will focus on transfiguration after the 31st."

Harry left not long after receiving that compliment. Severus looked in the mirror and wondered if he'd gone soft. His clothes made it seem that way; he was more casual than he ever was around the castle and, admittedly, more attractive. This, he could acknowledge to himself and no one else, was for Harry.

How taboo was it, a strong attraction to a student? Was there a way to ask Minerva without actually asking Minerva? Then, he realized what he needed to do, and knew that all he had to ask Minerva was whether he could use her office alone for a half hour or so.


	10. Chapter 10

After having spent those two nights with Snape, and having enjoyed those so thoroughly, it was almost disappointing to get ready and go to the Three Broomsticks for a meet up with Hermione and Percy. Once he saw the two of them there, though, curled up together in a corner booth, any annoyance at putting his lessons on hold dissipated. They looked so thrilled to be together, and there was no way he could stay disappointed when two friends of his, one his very closest, were this happy.

"We have something to tell you," said Percy after the customary hellos and placing of orders.

"We're engaged!" said Hermione, cutting Percy off. He looked amused at the interruption and kissed her on the side of the head.

"Well, congratulations!" Harry said, noting to himself that this was another bit of life-changing news that hardly surprised him at all. "Do we have to stand up and hug again?"

Percy and Hermione laughed. "No," said Percy. "I think saying hello was sufficient."

"So, when are you planning on getting married?" Harry asked.

"After the school year ends," said Hermione.

"In June or July," Percy added.

"We want to make sure everyone can be there before we set a concrete date," Hermione said. "And, I suppose, we have to make sure everyone will be willing to come." She frowned, and Percy tightened his arm around her shoulder, grimacing.

"Still not really talking to you, then?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"Not if he can help it," said Percy. "In honesty, life will be easier once he's safely tucked away in another country."

"So you found out, then?"

"Seems we were the last to know," said Hermione, sighing. "But yes, Molly told us last night. We just got back from my parents'. Who are thrilled, by the way—about us, not Ron. They were never nearly as fond of Ron as they are Perce."

"That doesn't shock me. Ron's not quite so parent-friendly, is he?"

Percy laughed. "Yeah, I'm a right foul git, but I follow the rules."

"No, you _were _a right foul git," Hermione corrected him. "Those days are over."

"Thankfully." Percy kissed her on the side of the head and said, "OK, enough of that. How's your holiday been, Harry?"

"Great," Harry said honestly. "Kingsley taught me to conjure a talking Patronus, and Snape's been teaching me to duel."

"Snape? Snape was willing to teach you something? Outside the classroom?"

Harry laughed at Hermione's shocked expression. "He's been quite cordial, actually. Damn good at dueling, too. And he thinks I'm good, which helps a lot. I mean, a lot."

"Snape, paying compliments. Never thought I'd see the day," mused Percy. "Is he going to teach you anything else, then?"

"Yes, I'm planning on getting a bit of extra help in human transfiguration from him."

"I envy that," said Hermione. "I've gotten as far as turning by hands and feet into cat paws, but that's it."

"It's quite cute," Percy said.

Harry laughed. "I'm sure. Does it confuse Crookshanks?"

"Yes, terribly," said Hermione, giggling. "Which only makes it more fun than it already is. You'll like it, Harry. And I'm sure Snape will be a good teacher. As much of a prat as he can be, he is a really great teacher."

After a bit more drinking and a great deal more conversation, Harry left to go back to the castle, first congratulating the two of them again. Something in him felt lonely when he realized no one had ever felt nearly the way about him that Percy felt about Hermione. To that end, he'd never felt the way Hermione did for Percy for anyone. Wistfully, he looked at the moon before passing back through the castle doors, wishing he had another lesson to look forward to rather than a night in a darkened dormitory with no one to keep him company.

His evening with Ron was substantially less lighthearted than the one before. Ron looked ... well, there was no better description for it: Ron looked darker than usual. He was frowning when Harry got to the Hog's Head, where Ron had insisted they meet. He brightened slightly when he saw Harry.

"Hey, mate," he said, managing a smile. "How was your Christmas?"

"Fine. Had a good Hogwarts feast. Been relaxing a lot. Yours?"

Ron looked down. "Parvati's pregnant. We're getting married when we get to Romania."

"Wait. Really? Should I congratulate you, or—"

"No. This isn't a good thing. She insists on keeping it, too." Ron was scowling, and Harry could understand why, though he didn't sympathize too much, considering the two of them could've been more careful. Still.

"Do your parents know?"

"Dad does. He says we should wait for a while with Mum. And that he should tell her when she does find out." Ron took a swig of firewhisky and swallowed hard. "You and him are the only ones I've told, and Parvati's only told Padma. She's terrified of telling Lavender, since Lavender ... well, she's not very happy we're together to start."

"I've heard."

"Anyway, we're leaving for Romania on the 31st. Got pushed up."

"Wow."

"Yeah. So New Year's is kind of out."

"S'pose so."

"I'll miss you, Harry," said Ron, sounding both weary and sincere. "You've been a good friend. I hope you'll still see me—us—whenever we visit."

"Sure, Ron." Harry tried to smile, but it felt strained.

Ron looked at his watch. "I gotta go. Parvati, she worries."

"Right. Well. Good luck."

"Thanks. Bye."

With the visit having been so abbreviated and so depressing, Harry's mood had darkened considerably, and by the time he arrived back at the castle, he could think of nothing that would cheer him up. With a pang, he wondered what Percy and Hermione were doing, and Bill and Fleur, and George and Angelina, who'd just moved in together the month before. Everyone had someone, its seemed. Well, not everyone he supposed. Snape, down in the dungeons, doing whatever it was Snape did on nights off, was alone. Alone and satisfied—or so he made it seem. Harry wondered if he'd be like that in his 30s, aloof and isolated, with friends but no close ones, no real inclination toward companionship. That's not how it had ever been for the boy who lived in a cupboard, who was thrilled beyond thrilled when he made his first friends at Hogwarts. Now, he thought of all he had, all he'd lost, and he knew that no, he could never be both alone and content.

Harry was delighted, then, to see Luna at breakfast the next morning, for it meant an end to the day's loneliness. He'd intended to go out to the pitch for a few hours, but he had the feeling his plans would change now.

"You're home early!" he said after giving her a hug.

"I was bored of my house," Luna said. "Dad and I get quite sick of each other after a while, and there were no distractions for either of us. Just each other, so dull. So I'm back here for New Year's."

"Great. I was going to the Weasleys, but not so much anymore. I can tell you this, I think. Ron is moving."

"Oh? That's nice," said Luna, as dreamily as always. "I like Ron. I'll miss him. But he's not happy here, is he? Is Parvati going, too?"

"Yes. She's having a baby, actually."

"Oh, how lovely. I like babies."

Harry shook his head. "It's really good to see you, Luna."

"It's good to see you, too, Harry," she said, smiling. "I think I'll go see Lavender now."

Harry, Luna, and Lavender spent the day playing Exploding Snap, discussing the difficulties of being seventh years, and, on occasion, gossiping. Late in the afternoon, Harry realized that he and Snape had never clarified whether there would be a lesson that night, so he went down to the dungeons after some curious questioning from the girls. He knocked about five times before Snape came and opened the door to his quarters.

"Harry," said Snape. "I did not expect you for several more hours."

"So we are having a lesson tonight, then?" Harry asked.

"I had planned on it. Unless, of course, you are busy," said Snape, one eyebrow raised. "I saw that Miss Lovegood has joined our number. You and her might want to catch up, I assume?"

"We already did that. I'd be glad to come back at 7," Harry said, hoping he didn't sound too enthusiastic. Snape nodded.

"Human transfiguration tonight, then. And tomorrow as well, unless you have some celebratory plans to attend to."

Harry shook his head. "Nope. There's been a shakeup at the Weasleys', and I don't think they'll be hosting anything anymore."

"Anything you care to share?"

Harry shrugged, uneasy. "Maybe later. I don't really think I'm supposed to tell anyone, and I've already told Luna, so..."

Snape looked somewhere close to hurt when Harry said that, enough that Harry blurted out, "Ron and Parvati are having a baby, and Mrs. Weasley—Molly—doesn't even know yet. Just me and Mr. Weasley and no one else. So Ron's leaving even earlier for Romania. Tomorrow. And Parvati's going with him, and she wants to keep the baby, and Ron doesn't, so it's kind of a terrible situation for him."

"I understand why it was difficult for you to tell me that, Harry," said Snape quietly. "Not an easy ... event to stand by."

Harry didn't quite know what Snape meant by that. Still, he nodded.

"I want you to remember, Harry, that you can feel safe when you tell me these things," Snape went on, putting his hand on Harry's arm. Harry nearly shivered at the contact but stood firm. "There is no one with whom I will ever share your secrets but you."

"Th—thank you, sir," he said.

Snape rolled his eyes. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, start calling me Severus. I certainly see you enough outside the classroom that we can be on a first name basis."

Harry grinned. "Severus. Right. Well."

"In the classroom, though, I am to remain Professor Snape."

"Right ... Severus." Harry took great delight in this new and foreign word, which felt so nice as it rolled out of his mouth and off of his tongue and into the air, where Snape—_Severus_—could hear it.

"Privileges are not to be abused," Severus concluded. "Now, I should get back to what I was brewing. I will see you at 7."

And, at 7, Harry was surprised at Severus' modesty. He was more than just adept at human transfiguration. He was _brilliant_. It wasn't just a finger here and a toe there. He could've easily been an Animagus, but, in his own words, "The thought of becoming an animal never held any strong appeal for me." Harry knew he wouldn't be nearly as good as Severus no matter how hard he studied, but the professor taught him a few concentration techniques, and by lesson's end, Harry was able to turn a couple fingers into tentacles—to his own horror and Severus' great amusement.

"You will be good at this yet," said Severus before murmuring an incantation and turning Harry's fingers back to normal. "It just takes a great deal more concentration than most spells."

"Well, I've never been one for concentration," Harry said, grinning wryly at the professor.

"News to me," said Severus dryly. Harry's grin widened, and he tried to reel it back in as Severus averted his eyes.

"You're really, really great at this," Harry said. "Amazing, really. The way you'd described it ... You made it seem like you didn't know what you were doing."

Severus lifted one shoulder, something Harry had noticed he did often as a means of shrugging off compliments. "A learned wizard knows and does as much he can in any discipline, even those towards he is not naturally inclined."

"That's the thing, though. You are. It's like you're naturally inclined to everything."

"Don't make me blush, Mr. Potter."

That made Harry blush, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was how Severus Snape flirted.

Severus cleared his throat. "You have some natural talents of your own, you realize," he said. "It would be accurate to say that you are a remarkable wizard, particularly for someone your age."

"Dumbledore would've hexed circles around me," said Harry.

"Not everyone can be the greatest sorcerer of all time," Snape said.

"That's fair." Harry smiled. It was becoming difficult not to, with all this pleasant conversation and how nice Severus' eyes looked in softer light like this... And it looked as though the older man was holding back a smile, too.

"It is getting late," said Severus. "I know the feast is at 7 tomorrow evening. Would you like to go from there to here?"

"You want to go to the feast together, then?" Harry wanted to take the words out of the air before they fell on Severus' ears. But he couldn't, and they got there anyway, and he couldn't fight the blush off his face completely as Severus looked at him oddly.

"I suppose so," said Severus. "Well, then. Have a nice night."

Harry let himself dream this time.


	11. Chapter 11

Though he already knew the answer, Severus wondered why the food was so much more palatable at this feast than the ones before it. Also, were Filius' jokes always this funny? And were the decorations so ... decorated? In any case, sometimes, when he reached for his knife, Harry was reaching for his napkin, and he took extra care to brush his arm against the boy's, and the boy always reacted the same: slight blush, half smile, and shrink away.

Severus' visit to the headmistress' office had gone unexpectedly well. At first, speaking with a portrait of his oldest friend was a little disconcerting, but in time, it was as though Dumbledore was back again.

"I must admit, I am not surprised," said the painted headmaster. "Your distaste for the boy had certainly faded by the time I passed on. It could not take long for your indifference to turn to some sort of affection."

"You always did know everything," Severus muttered.

"You do not intend to act on your affections until the boy has left school, I presume," said Dumbledore.

"No."

"And when he leaves?"

"We will see."

"You are a good man, Severus. Do you think he reciprocates, then?"

"I haven't the faintest. It seems that way sometimes, but one can never truly know these things until they happen, can they?"

"No, I suppose not. And by the way..."

Severus waited.

"A little harmless flirting, you know, never hurt anyone."

The portrait's eyes were practically twinkling as Severus swept out of the office and straight down to the feast.

Now, here they were, idly chattering with Kingsley and Minerva, listening to Luna Lovegood talk about the Crumple-Horned Snorcack she and her father had adopted as a pet, and Lavender Brown sniffing at the idea of her old best friend becoming a teenage mother.

"Secret's out, then?" Harry said. Severus could tell the boy wanted to sound casual, but his tone was a tad strained. He contemplated giving Harry some kind of consoling look, but decided against it—mustn't go too far here.

"Well, the Patils know, and I know, and I think all the Weasleys know by now. You knew, right, Harry?" Lavender asked.

He nodded. "It'll be good for them to be away from here, I think."

"You won't miss Ron, then?"

"He's been good as gone for a long time now," said Harry. "You know that as well as I do." He cleared his throat. "I think I'll be off, then."

Everyone said their goodbyes to Harry, and Severus followed quickly after them.

"Embarrassed, Potter?" he said as he caught up with the boy, who was shuffling his feet as he went, as if to slow himself down for the professor's sake.

"I thought you called me Harry now," said Harry, grinning cheekily.

"I will call you Harry as long as you are proud to be my private pupil, as it were," Severus said.

"Oh, I am." Harry's smile got shyer as the two of them entered Severus' quarters.

"If you ever require my services, or simply need me, the password is 'Gillyweed,'" said Severus after a moment's thought. Why shouldn't he give Harry the password? Still, the boy's eyes lit up, even as he looked away from Severus.

"Speaking of which, I have been meaning to explain to you why it is your fingers turn to tentacles rather than fur or another form."

"Yeah? Why?" Harry sounded genuinely interested.

"Typically, if one has ever transformed into a non-human form before attempting to transfigure himself, then he will return to a like form when he does concertedly try to do so," said Severus. "During the second task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, you used gillyweed in order to grow fins, gills, and webbed appendages."

"So I'm more fish than feline, then," said Harry with a grin.

"Right."

"By the way, I didn't steal the gillyweed from your supply."

"Oh?" Severus fought off the urge to smirk.

"No. Someone took it and gave it to me."

Severus allowed himself the smirk when Harry added, "But we did take the ingredients for Polyjuice Potion during second year."

"I knew it!" Severus couldn't stop himself from sounding as though he'd won a fight on the playground. "And why was that necessary?"

Harry sighed. "I thought Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin, so we posed as Crabbe and Goyle to see if we could get him to fess up."

"You really loathe Draco Malfoy, don't you?" Severus asked, still smirking.

"'Loathe' is a pretty strong word," said Harry. "Hate, maybe. Despise, definitely. Dunno about loathing him, though."

"Well, that clears that up, then." Severus rolled up the sleeves of his Oxford. This one was green, and he'd noticed Harry looking at it rather closely earlier. At least, he thought he'd noticed that. "Shall we go to work, then?"

Harry's concentration was remarkably better that night than it had been the night before.

"There hasn't been much on my mind but this, really," said Harry, examining his now-scaly arm. "I really want to be good at it. D'you think it's greedy, wanting to be good at everything?"

"It depends on your reasoning for wanting to be good at everything, I suppose," said Severus. "Though I doubt you desire excellence for nefarious purpose."

"Not so bent on ruling the world, no," Harry said. Pointing his wand at his arm with his free hand, he returned it to its normal state.

"I'm afraid I had nothing else intended for study tonight."

"Oh." Harry looked disappointed, and Severus couldn't deny to himself how happy that made him.

"You could stay here for a while if you would like, though," he said. "I'll make some tea, and we could watch some television."

"You have a telly?" Harry got up from the table, where they did their studies, and moved to the more comfortable armchair. The green one, it seemed, was his preference.

"I suppose you've never noticed it. It's above the fireplace," Severus said, gesturing over to the wall.

"No, I hadn't noticed. I haven't watched telly in I don't even know how long," he said. "I don't even remember channel numbers or anything like that. Not that they would necessarily be the same as in Surrey..."

"I had planned on watching a film, actually, if you would be interested in joining." He picked up the DVD from his side table. "Have you ever seen _The Ipcress File_?"

Harry laughed. "I've seen about three films in my life. And I've only seen those because the Dursleys were out of their house long enough for me to find one on the telly."

"Well, I imagine you will enjoy this one, for whatever that is worth," said Severus. "It is a classic crime thriller dating back to the 1960s."

"Brilliant," said Harry with a grin, which seemed to be a trend that particular night.

And it was, really—brilliant. Severus had already seen _The Ipcress File _several times, and was thus able to watch Harry's reactions more closely. He was riveted, literally gasping at the more surprising moments, laughing uproariously when appropriate, and mostly deadly serious. He appreciated film the way it ought to be appreciated, and Severus cursed himself for finding yet another thing to like about Harry Potter.

When the film ended, it was nearing midnight. Harry couldn't stop talking about how much he'd loved it.

"I just didn't know you could make fighting look so cool, you know?" he said enthusiastically. "And Michael Caine—Michael Caine is brilliant! Has he been in anything else?"

Severus laughed and stood, going to the kitchen area to get some champagne, the one Muggle tradition his father had passed on to him that he chose to hang on to. "Michael Caine is a fairly prolific actor. He has appeared in nearly 100 films."

"Bloody hell," said Harry. "I've got a lot to learn, haven't I?"

Severus handed him a flute and sat back down next to him. "These things can be arranged."

"Getting on midnight, then, is it?" Harry asked.

"Five minutes to, yes," said Severus, turning the television to BBC Scotland, which was broadcasting the annual Princes St. street party.

"I thought you were scaling back on my alcohol intake. This is the second drink tonight," said Harry, mock scolding him.

"Yes, well, it's a celebration, right?" Severus took a sip then added, "Though I'm sure you would have rather tied one on at the Weasley home."

"Nah," Harry said. "This is perfect." For once, despite saying something that was potentially quite embarrassing, the boy did not blush.

"I agree," Severus said quietly. Harry smiled at him, a bit shyly, and Severus did the unthinkable: he raised the corners of his lips and looked in Harry's general direction.

"Ten ... Nine ... Eight ... Seven ... Six ... Five ... Four ... Three ... Two ... One ... Happy New Year!"

Harry stood, took a step toward Severus, leaned down, and brushed his lips against the man's cheek.

"Happy new year, Professor," he said, barely above a whisper, and with a half smile, he walked out of the dungeons and back to his tower.


	12. Chapter 12

Harry didn't hear a word from Severus the next day, or the day after that. But on the 3rd, a day before the start of term, he got a letter from an extremely regal-looking owl.

His hands were sweaty as he unfolded the letter.

Harry,

I apologize for not sending you any correspondence or speaking with you sooner than this. I have done a great deal of thinking since the 31st, and have just now collected my thoughts enough to say what I have to say.

I have made no secret of my feelings for you, and was uncertain about yours for mine until that night. Now that I know, I would like you to know that my intentions are entirely pure. It would be impossible for us to enter into any kind of relationship while you are still a student. However, I intend to continue tutoring you privately, and perhaps share some more films with you. Our friendship can keep growing, but it would be completely inappropriate for me to cross any more lines than that.

If you could respond with a "yes" or "no" to this proposal before start of term, I would greatly appreciate it.

Yours,

Severus Snape

Though all of it was welcome, the word "yours" was the one Harry read over, and over, and over.

His final term at Hogwarts picked up quite well, as Hermione returned and Harry began helping her plan the wedding. It surprised Harry how much fun this was. With Percy having moved into a higher position at the Ministry of Magic, money was hardly an object, so Hermione and Harry had a great time at Hogsmeade on the weekends, picking through the stores they'd never entered before. Harry found himself thinking much more about relationships than he ever had before, and certainly not because of Lavender's crush on him. Waiting for a few months made the prospect of being with Severus much more tantalizing, and watching Hermione's relationship with Percy grow ever closer gave him some kind of abstract inspiration.

He was waiting for the right time to tell Hermione about what—who—he had waiting in the wings at end of term. He thought she might suspect something when he had tutoring lessons two, sometimes three times a week, and usually on Saturday evenings, around the time cinemas showed classic films. And Harry showed no interest in Lavender, who, by all accounts, would make a fine girlfriend. She was pretty, and kind, and she had a fine sense of humor, something Harry had looked for in the past. Now, humor didn't seem so important as genius-level intelligence, seriousness, and black hair that looked impossibly soft.

It was hard to find a time to tell her, but he made it happen, and he was again pleased by his best friend's level of tolerance.

"I had guessed ... well, not quite, not a developed idea, just a theory," said Hermione.

"Only you would phrase it that way," Harry said, smiling.

"You're spending a lot of time with him, and he's so much nicer than he used to be, and you haven't had an unkind word to say about him since before ... you know," she said. "But you know it would be wrong if something happened between the two of you now, right?"

"Of course it would be," said Harry. "D'you really think I'd let him risk his job like that if I actually care about him?"

"I didn't think so. Have you set parameters, then?"

"Yes. No more physical contact, although he did break that rule last time we saw a film." Hermione's eyes widened. "He held my hand."

"Oh. Well." She sounded relieved.

"No expressions of affection in the classroom."

"That makes sense."

"And no use of the word 'relationship.'"

"That's all very Snape, isn't it?"

"Oh, can only call him Severus when no one else is around."

"You call him Severus?"

"Yeah." Harry tried not to sound so dreamy ... so Luna-like, actually.

"Well, that's new," she said, looking amused.

"Anyway, you're OK with this?" he asked, still a bit hesitant.

"It's not Malfoy," said Hermione. "And if it's not Malfoy, then I'm OK with anyone." She paused. "I do have one question, though. Have you talked about your mum?"

"In fact, we have."

The conversation hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as Harry expected it would be. Severus, in fact, was very open to the idea of talking about Harry's parents, and it had happen a few more times since then.

"Lily was the first person I loved, yes," Severus had said. "And while I will always have affection for her, as you well know, that feeling of being in love has not been sustained." Severus hesitated before adding, "I no longer hated your father by the time they passed on."

"No?"

"Because he still wasn't the better man—" Harry held back a laugh. "It does not mean that he was completely detestable. After all, your mother had to have her reasons for loving him."

Then Severus brushed his hand against Harry's cheek, and Harry found himself unable to breathe for a moment or two, and that was the end of that.

"Can you imagine if we were 13 and this was happening?" Hermione asked.

Harry laughed. "Yeah. It isn't pretty. You know, Hermione ... Thanks."

"For what?"

"For not acting the way Ron would've."

She smiled. "You're welcome," she said, and they set off for Hogsmeade for another day of plans and shopping and pleasant, more open conversations.

Not everything about life was sunshine and roses, though. Draco had taken up with Astoria Greengrass, another seventh year Slytherin. This didn't bother Harry at all. Contrarily, he was quite relieved. But it was a bit obnoxious to have him drawl loudly about their sexual escapades in every Potions class. Harry also had the nagging feeling that Draco knew about his relationship—scratch that, friendship—with Severus, and the dark look in his eyes every time Draco caught them was even more grating than the lewd gestures he made at Ernie McMillan, who didn't seem very interested at all but, in true Hufflepuff fashion, politely listened to every word.

His suspicions were confirmed when Draco waited outside the Potions classroom for him one day.

"I know what's going on with you and Severus," he hissed. "Everyone knows."

"If there was something going on, I doubt anyone would really notice, Malfoy," said Harry through gritted teeth. "Why are you watching so closely, anyway? Still in love with your professor? Astoria not enough for you?"

Draco's face reddened. "That, Potter, is none of your business."

"Nor is anything to do with me yours," Harry said, shoving past Draco.

Draco kept pace with him, saying, "My relationship with Astoria is more than enough for me. I love her."

Harry snorted. "Must be fun, loving someone you're not attracted to."

"I am. More than I ever was to you," Draco shot back.

"Well, that's brilliant for you, isn't it? Maybe you should propose. Live a lie forever rather than just at school."

"Maybe I will."

Harry looked at Draco in disbelief. Shaking his head, he said, "I need to go down to the pitch. Any chance you'll let me go there by myself?"

"Whatever," Draco said snippily, taking another fork.

Harry wondered idly as he flew, looking for the snitch in a practice Quidditch round against Ravenclaw, if Draco's childish need for superiority would extend to marriage. It seemed extreme, even for Malfoy, but Harry determined that anything was possible with a boy so ... petulant? Immature? Infuriating? Something along those lines, yes. At any rate, there were always better thoughts to dwell on than Draco Malfoy. Like Severus Snape and that green shirt he'd been wearing the night Harry kissed him.

Sometimes, Harry wondered if he should've gone straight for the lips. It wasn't that the kiss on the cheek hadn't been brilliant beyond brilliant. It was, and Harry's lips felt as though they were burning for days after the fact. But how electrifying would it be to feel Severus' red, red lips pressed against his, tongues making contact with each other's teeth, hands gripping at shoulders as they tried desperately to stay at first base? Very electrifying indeed, Harry thought, and he didn't regret what he'd done completely, but it would be murder, waiting for a chance to do what he faintly wished he had.

It was there, though, glimmering, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. And it was just what Harry needed to bring him happily through a brutally difficult final term at a place he knew he'd dearly miss.


	13. Chapter 13

For Severus, "at a snail's pace" would be an accurate way to describe how the term was progressing. If he wasn't actually looking at Harry, being with Harry, or communicating with Harry, then he was thinking about doing any or all of those things. There was also the issue of touching the younger man, something he allowed himself to do on occasion. Brushing his fingertips across Harry's face certainly wasn't a serious infraction of their rules, though, was it? Judging by the way he felt after he'd done so, Severus determined that yes, actually, it was. It most certainly was.

But Harry never seemed to mind. Harry never seemed to mind anything Severus did. In fact, everything they did when they were together, from Charms study sessions to classic films at Severus' favorite cinema, was met with great enthusiasm on his part. They could use the label of friendship, but it was rapidly becoming a true relationship under that guise. And Severus was eternally grateful that somewhere along the way, Harry had learned the skill of subtlety. No one was the wiser, with the exception of a portrait in Minerva's office and, apparently, Hermione Granger.

"She'd never tell a soul," Harry promised.

"I am surprised to say that I believe you," said Severus, and it was never mentioned again.

Their conversations became more interesting over time, as Severus was able to see that Harry was generally quite bright, and his interests extended further than Severus had ever wished to acknowledge in earlier years. It wasn't just Quidditch with Harry. It was a strong affinity for his studies, even those classes that others seemed to dread, like Care of Magical Creatures. (Naturally, Harry still hated History of Magic, but for that, Severus could not blame him.) He loved spending time with Teddy Lupin when he could, and casually dropped into conversation one day that he wanted to adopt a child someday. He was forever nicking novels from Severus' personal library, and the newfound love for film was ever developing.

Now, Harry had seen a number of American films in addition to other British classics. Thus far, _The Apartment _was his favorite.

"It's interesting," Harry said on the way back to Hogwarts the night they'd seen it. "Very little happens, yet it feels as though you're witnessing a whole life come together."

"A succinct and accurate way to put it," said Severus, and Harry beamed.

"They felt very ... real to me, too. Like I've met those characters before."

"The best films include such portrayals," Severus said. "So, I take it you liked that particular filmmaker's style?"

Harry nodded.

"In that case, you are seeing your first comedy as soon as possible," said Severus, knowing it was time for Harry to get a glimpse of _Some Like it Hot_.

The worst time of the week was about the last 10 minutes of the train ride on Saturday evenings, when Severus realized that he wouldn't properly see Harry again until Tuesday morning. Those three days between film nights and morning classes were cruel, sluggish times. Now that he knew Harry was intelligent, all conversations on Sundays and Mondays, and even Tuesday mornings before class, seemed intellect-starved, even when he spoke with Filius Flitwick, perhaps the smartest man he'd ever met. Harry wouldn't blink his eyes in confusion if Severus mentioned a Muggle sport or a foreign film. But Severus had to admit to himself that cultural knowledge or no, Harry wouldn't be able to identify a non-verbal stinging hex if it hit him in the face—literally.

Then Tuesday mornings felt terrifically joyous, a high only repeated on Saturdays, when Harry came down to the dungeons in that damned cloak, usually wearing something almost too tantalizing underneath. This was a person who knew better than anyone else what Severus liked though, in honesty, Severus just seemed to like Harry in general.

"Have you begun to consider your plans in the fall, Severus?" Minerva asked him one day over lunch. It was Monday, so his weekly sulking session had nearly reached its apex. He could see Harry at the Gryffindor table out of the corner of his eye, and he knew Harry could seem him, but he deftly ignored the chill that went up his spine every time the young man looked his way.

"Well, Minerva, my plans have not changed much for the past 16-odd years, with the exception of my short stint as Defence professor, and shorter stint as undercover Death Eater."

The headmistress smiled wryly. "I was just wondering if you would like to return to the Defence post. Kingsley is strongly considering a return to the ministry, in which case the post would be open, and you would have first pick."

"Oh?" Severus hid his surprise well. Inwardly, he was shocked. Though Minerva now knew his true intentions were pure, there was still some hesitance about his having the dark arts so close at hand.

"You've certainly proved yourself as a more than competent professor," said Minerva. "And I see no reason why Horace Slughorn would say no to a return to our hallowed halls."

Severus smiled slightly at her choice of words. "I will need some time to consider this possibility."

"Naturally. Take it. It's only February. We have a lot of time to work with."

February. Now, why did that mean something to him? Oh, right. Valentine's Day, one he looked on with annual dread. If he was entering into a relationship into the future, and he had enough affection stored up for his future partner that he would like to express it, then did he do so? Was it appropriate? What if Harry didn't get him anything in return? As a precaution, he told himself he would get something for Harry. If Harry had no gift for Severus, then he would save the gift for another occasion—Harry's birthday, perhaps, which Severus knew was sometime in late July. He would have to confirm that at a later date.

He did not have to save the gift, though, as he and Harry spent a rare afternoon and evening together on the 14th. It fell on a Saturday this year, which perhaps contributed to their obligation to honor the day.

"Will we be exchanging gifts now, then?" Harry asked after he'd gotten down to the dungeon. He was wearing a black pea coat and his Gryffindor scarf. Severus had not resisted the urge to embrace him, ever so carefully, when he'd come through the door; the young man was simply too attractive on this day. Harry had enthusiastically returned the hug.

"I intended to give your gift after we had gone into town," said Severus.

"So you don't have it yet, then?" Harry grinned, and Severus resisted the urge to touch him again.

"Oh, I have it. And I am impressed that you have one for me as well."

"Well, why wouldn't I?"

"I wasn't sure that you would want to celebrate ... you know."

"Celebrate what?" Harry asked innocently. Even as he cared about him, Severus still wanted to throttle the boy now and again.

"You know. Today. February the 14th."

"And what day is that?"

"You really, really want to hear me say it, don't you?"

Harry grinned again. "I really, really would."

"Valentine's Day," Severus intoned flatly.

"Oh, yes, that day. Sure. I guess we're not _really _in a relationship, but here's to promise, right?" His grin turned cheeky, and Severus kicked himself for not delaying his feelings just a few more months.

"Here's to," said Severus, putting on his cloak, glaring at Harry until he put on his, and leaving the castle.

The day was, as Harry would've said, brilliant. The two of them never went to Hogsmeade, but today, all Harry wanted early in the evening was a butterbeer, so they ducked into the Three Broomsticks. Certain that no one they'd ever seen, aside from Rosmerta, was there, they freely drank together, Severus partaking in something a little bit harder. Simply being somewhere familiar together, and publicly so, felt better than Severus guessed it would, and Harry, judging from his perpetual grin, felt the same.

For variety's sake, Severus took Harry two different places he'd never been: a Japanese restaurant and the theatre. Severus hadn't realized a person could consume raw fish with great relish, but with Harry, it seemed, anything was possible. Countless California rolls and tuna sashimi later, the two of them went to the Queens' Theatre to see _Les Miserables_.

Severus found it mildly tragic that Harry had lived in England most of his young life and never been to the theatre. He understood that the Dursleys had no regard for Harry's cultural exposure, but how could they live a train ride from the West End and never consider taking him and his cousin to a show?

"They just don't care for this kind of thing," said Harry as they waited for the musical to begin.

"You are about to see how very wrong they are," Severus replied.

Severus had seen _Les Miserables _five or six times in his life, but the story of love and redemption never grew old for him. There were ways he felt he was very much like Valjean, especially now that he'd reached a redeemed status. But in his mind, he had it better than Valjean. Valjean didn't have Harry.

"That was incredible," Harry said afterward. He hadn't spoken much before they reached the train, but when they had, he didn't stop talking about the story, the songs, and how he didn't know he could cry that much at something that wasn't real.

"That's what effective storytelling can do to a person," said Severus. "Did you have a favorite character?"

"Javier," Harry said, and immediately, with conviction.

"Really?"

"Why not? He was as heroic as Valjean, if not more so."

"He died a coward's death."

"No, he died because there was nothing left for him."

"You put it as poetically as Hugo might have himself," Severus said dryly, close to teasing. It wasn't something he did, but then, this was someone who brought that out in him.

"Oh, and thanks again," said Harry, holding up the soundtrack Severus had gotten him as they left the show. "Doesn't seem fair. I only got you one gift. And you paid for the tickets. And dinner. I have money, too, you know. You don't always have to pay for everything."

"Harry, I'm simply being chivalrous," said Severus, flat out teasing this time. "If you really want to use your hard-earned money on me, then insist upon it next time we are out."

"I will." Harry pouted slightly as they got off the train. He brushed his fingers against Severus' as they walked back to the castle. They always did this, despite the existence of Apparition. Something about this just felt better. Harry threw his cloak over his head and, without hesitation, grabbed Severus' hand, squeezed it, and let go. Without thinking, Severus smiled at the now-invisible boy.

"I'm not encouraging you, you know," he said quietly.

"Of course you're not."

Upon reentering Severus' quarters, the two men sat down in their preferred armchairs and exchanged gifts. Severus was impressed that Harry had remembered two things: the man's favorite film director and his favorite potionmaker.

"I imagine it is not every day one purchases both Kubrick's collected works and Wulfric Chudleigh's _The Art of Living Death_," Severus said.

"That's what the clerk said, too," said Harry with a smile. "You like them, then?"

"Yes. I'll get a great deal of use out of both of them. Thank you, Harry. This was very thoughtful of you."

"I get that way with you," Harry said, blushing slightly. Severus handed him a slim, neatly wrapped package, which Harry opened with the enthusiasm of a 5-year-old on Christmas morning. Inside was a thin silver chain with a round silver charm. Diamonds flecked on the surface of the silver, but it was, in Severus' eyes, not opulent so much as simply elegant.

"That charm," said Severus, "grants protection to the wearer. It should not surprise you that I worry about you, Harry, even when circumstances are most mundane. As a result, I gave a great deal of thought to how I might help safeguard you when I am not around, and I found my solution in that piece of metal."

"It's amazing," said Harry, goggle-eyed. "Thank you. Wow. Can you put it on me, then?"

Severus' hands had never had so much sustained contact with Harry's body before. Lifting his hair off his neck, running his hand along the nape as he fastened the clasp—it was almost too much, and it looked to Severus as though Harry felt the same.

The younger man turned his head around and smiled at Severus. "Thank you, Severus. I—"

And he kissed him.

It didn't last long, and it was close-mouthed, but it was, without a doubt, the most passionate kiss Severus had ever shared with anyone.

After Harry backed away slightly, staying close as he could without actually making any physical contact, he said, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I won't do it again."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Harry, if you had not done it, I would have."

"Really?"

"Really." As if to prove it, Severus kissed him plainly on the cheek. Harry smiled and blushed, and Severus said, "No more. But tonight, I believe we can allow ourselves these small exceptions."

"You're just so much better at reining it in than I am," said Harry.

"I was the one who hugged you on your arrival," Severus pointed out.

"But I was the one who touched your hand, and grabbed your hand, and just now kissed you."

"I think it is completely logical that we are both a bit ... anxious," said Severus. "We cannot always count on our own reliability or self-control."

"Don't have to tell me that," said Harry.

"But we can forgive ourselves for these minor violations, can we not?"

Harry nodded. "I really love this," he said, running his hand along the chain.

"I thought you might."

"You did like your gifts, right?"

"I loved them. You're an extraordinarily thoughtful person, Mr. Potter."

"I'm glad you think so, Professor."

They spent the next few minutes sitting by the fire. Severus was grateful for the day that was on his calendar as he allowed his hand to lie over Harry's. Both their hands were extremely warm, on the verge of hot. Severus blamed the fire.

Soon, it was obvious Harry had to go. It was past midnight, and he usually left much sooner than this. Severus walked him to the door of his quarters. With some hesitance, he ducked his head toward the younger man's and kissed him, open mouthed this time. He tried to make it more measured than urgent, but he couldn't help himself. This was the very first time, and he wanted to make it pleasurable for both of them. Judging by the way Harry clung to his body and went in for a second kiss after the far too brief first, it was as Severus had wished.

"Minor infraction," he murmured as Harry broke off the kiss and took a step backward. "It is a holiday, after all."  
"After all," said Harry, a goofy smile on his face.

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, Severus."

Severus slept extraordinarily well that night, his dreams a touch more explicit than usual.


	14. Chapter 14

Though he wouldn't have known it without Severus' private library, Harry couldn't help thinking of the same phrase over and over again: "April is the cruelest month." T.S. Eliot had written the words decades ago, but Harry determined that April never could've been as cruel to T.S. as it was to Harry. After the utter brilliance of Valentine's Day, February and March had passed without incident. Classes progressed as usual, Gryffindor continued its winningest season since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, and Harry and Severus spent nearly every Saturday evening together.

But April seemed to change everything, as his hardest subjects became even harder, the other houses' Quidditch teams finally became competitively good, and Severus began training to become Defence professor in the fall. It ate up more than half his Saturdays, so nearly the only times Harry saw the man, it was at the front of the Potions classroom, and he was being called "Potter" again and Severus was never within striking or, rather, touching distance.

Severus had told Harry about Professor McGonagall's offer within a week of her making it, and Harry's reaction had been entirely positive. It was what Severus always wanted, and Harry knew Severus was an extremely accomplished wizard, and no one would be better suited to the job. But it also meant that he saw Severus even less than he did before, and while Severus may find it pathetic if Harry told him so, he missed him terribly.

On the one April Saturday they did have together, they made the day count, going to London for sushi and a play again. _Avenue Q _was, obviously, not the same kind of musical as _Les Miserables_, but Harry loved it nearly as much, and hearing Severus laugh was always welcome.

"It's really fun, you know, seeing you react to something for the first time," he told Severus on the train ride home. "All these films, you've seen before, but you'd never seen _Avenue Q_, and it was just really cool. I don't think I've ever heard you laugh that much."

"You like hearing me laugh, then?" Severus asked.

"Well, yeah. You don't do it very often, you know."

At that, Severus laughed, Harry grinned, and they rode in companionable silence for a few moments until Severus said, "I was wondering what your plans are for the summer, particularly your living arrangements."

"Oh. Well, I had to give it a bit of thought after Ron left. We were going to get a flat together in London and start training for ministry jobs, but then..."

Severus nodded. "Right."

"So I talked to Dean Thomas, who also wants to work at the ministry," said Harry. "He's out of a flatmate because Seamus is moving back to Ireland, so we found a building just outside London we're planning on moving in to."

Severus looked at him for, well, Harry couldn't gauge how long, as he tended to get a bit lost when Severus did that. He blamed the eyes.

"I have a cottage—well, a manor, really—in the Cotswolds at which I spend my summer holidays," Severus said, slowly, measured. "I had wondered if you would have any interest in spending some time there after term."

"You serious?" Harry was thrilled beyond thrilled and had trouble reining that in completely. "That sounds brilliant. I'd love to."

"You do not have to stay for long," Severus continued. "However short or long you would like, in fact. I will be there from the 2nd of June through the 20th of August."

"I will be, too," said Harry, grinning, probably stupidly, but he didn't care.

Severus looked a bit confused. "Harry, you should give the matter some consideration before simply jumping in with both feet."

"Well, I can't think of anything else I'd rather do with my summer than be ... in the Cotswolds." Harry paused. "With you. I can't think of anything else I'd rather do than be with you."

Severus looked both embarrassed and pleased as he said, "You are a flatterer, Mr. Potter."

"I'm not even trying," said Harry.

"Which is what makes it so endearing," Severus said. Harry felt himself blushing. Severus half-smiled and the two were silent again. A minute or two later, Severus put his hand over Harry's and left it there for the remainder of the ride. They held hands on the way to the castle, and it would've taken pliers to pry the smile off Harry's face.

Somewhat inexplicably, May was far kinder to Harry than the previous month. He began taking his NEWTs the third week of the month, three days after Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup. Severus, despite Slytherin's dead last ranking, had kissed him for that, which felt substantially better than catching the Snitch had.

For some reason, NEWTs seemed a bit easier than OWLs, perhaps because of every emotional and physical bridge he'd crossed in the years since those taxing tests. History of Magic was, naturally, a train wreck, and Astronomy wasn't too much better, but Potions and Defence were a snap, Charms wasn't too bad, and his Transfiguration proctor was so delighted that Harry could turn his entire arm and part of his face that the poor little wizard nearly fainted.

And then, suddenly, wonderfully: June.

A number of notable events were occurring that summer, most notably a pair of weddings: Bill and Fleur's "take two," as they were calling it, and Hermione and Percy's. Harry was staying at the Burrow for the first week of June to see Ron and attend the wedding. He was a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to dance with Severus at the reception, or even really speak to him much, but he wasn't too fussed, as he'd be in the Cotswolds the day after the wedding. Then it would be back to the Burrow the week before his birthday, when Percy and Hermione got married. And then, he'd be in the Cotswolds with Severus again until Severus left for Hogwarts and Harry moved in with Dean.

As he waited for Ron on the front stoop of the Burrow, he thought of his last conversation with Severus before leaving the school.

"So, do I call you my boyfriend now, then?" he'd asked teasingly. They'd already kissed quite a bit, and Harry was surprised he had any energy for cheek at all; he was feeling a bit dizzy, and Severus was smirking, completely composed, as though it had no effect on him. Harry suspected otherwise.

"I think it would be appropriate for you to continue to call me Severus." Severus ran a hand through Harry's hair. Dizziness set in again. "Does your hair always stick up like this, then?"

"Yeah, always has," said Harry. "I've never tried cutting it shorter—"

"Don't," Severus said abruptly. "The way it looks now..."

He didn't say anything, and Harry decided to tease again. "You love it, don't you?"

"That wasn't what I said."

"But you're not denying it!"

"Oh, shut up, you," said Severus, and he kissed Harry, and Harry wondered why he had to have any obligations in life, why he couldn't just spend his time with Severus, kissing him, being kissed by him...

He looked at the clock.

"I need to go," he said apologetically. "The Weasleys'll be here in about 10 minutes, and I haven't packed."

"Of course you haven't."

"So I need you to let go of me," said Harry, gesturing to Severus' arms around him.

"Oh. Right." Severus didn't let go, opting to kiss Harry instead.

"Sometime," he said, when Harry was having trouble finding his breath, "we will talk about our physical relationship, and the standards you plan to keep."

"Yes," said Harry, using the pause to kiss him again. "I'll miss you."

"I know," said Severus. One more kiss, and Harry left, feeling Severus' eyes on his back as he left.

Now, Harry wondered what to tell Ron if Ron asked what he was doing this summer. He'd planned on telling him he was going to live with Dean. But shouldn't he be more honest with his old best friend? Granted, Ron would never look at him the same again, but there was something to be said for full disclosure.

Any apprehension about what he'd say and how he'd say it evaporated as he heard a distinct thudding noise and that familiar exclamation of "Bloody hell!"

"Still can't Apparate for shit, can you, mate?" Harry called out.

"Oh, sod off," said Ron, running forward and nearly tackling Harry to the ground in a hug. "Good to see you."

"You too. Nice shiner." Ron's eye had a neat, bluish circle around it.

Ron grinned. "Got that off a Ridgeback. One of Norbert's kids."

"Where's Parvati?"

"At the Patils' for the next few days. She'll be here for the wedding. Anyone else around here?"

"Hermione isn't."

"Oh. Right." Ron held one of his rucksacks out to Harry. "Could you carry that for me, mate?"

"Sure."

As he took the sack, Harry had the thought that he and Ron, no matter how they bantered, were never going to be the friends they used to be. Given that, there just wasn't the closeness that deserved the truth. There was no possible way Harry could look Ron in the eye, tell him he was with Severus Snape, and have Ron give him another thought without scorn.

For that reason, for the next six days, he and Ron talked about everything, so long as it wasn't important. And on the day of the wedding, when he looked at Severus, in bottle green dress robes and cleaner cut than ever, he did not regret keeping that secret. Severus looked back at Harry, and Harry knew that Severus hadn't told anyone, either. Who would he tell? The two men nodded at each other.

_I love you_, Harry thought as the string quartet played the first strains of "Canon in D."

**Author's note: Thanks for never questioning the viability of the five-hour train ride from metropolitan Scotland to London. I guess they Apparate to Surrey or something. **


	15. Chapter 15

The first month of summer was almost certainly the best of Severus' life.

With the exceptions of occasional day trips to Oxford, Glasgow, and London, he and Harry spent their days in the Cotswolds manor's sun porch. They didn't speak too much in the mornings and afternoons, saving conversations for dinner. Harry, as it turned out, was something of a brilliant cook, which Severus hadn't foreseen and was somewhat saddened to learn. Granted, it was fine by him if he didn't have to handle many mealtimes, but it implied something Severus had feared: Harry's former guardians treated him more as a servant than a surrogate son.

Severus generally avoided the topic of the Dursleys, though Harry occasionally told a story or two about his cousin's selfishness or his Aunt Marge's many bulldogs. To Severus, it was better that Harry break free from that part of his past, and Harry seemed more than willing to do so. But even if that wasn't on the younger man's mind, something was. Some days, rather than reading or watching films, Harry simply sat and gazed out the window, almost frustratingly contemplative. It took him until the end of the month, after Severus had repeatedly asked him what was on his mind and been tempted many times to root around in there himself, to share what he'd been thinking.

"I'm surprised you don't already know," Harry said wryly. "Couldn't you have used Occlumency?"

"I did not wish to without permission," said Severus.

"Well, thanks. Anyway, it's just ... look, I'm really, really happy to be with you every day like this."

"I am content with the arrangement as well." Severus had been very careful not to tell Harry he loved him or anything of the sort. Even if it was true, and Severus had the nagging feeling it was, he didn't want to be the first to say it, and it seemed quite a big step forward.

"But sometimes I feel guilty over being this happy." Harry raked a hand through that permanently messy, almost irritatingly attractive hair of his, looking a bit pained. Though he knew it was out of character, Severus felt as though Harry needed him closer, so he sat down next to him on the couch and put an arm around him. Harry looked at him and smiled, though not fully.

"It's just ... my parents are dead, Sirius is dead, Remus is dead, for God's sake, Dumbledore is dead, and it's like none of that affects me at all anymore." Harry's voice got smaller as he continued, "And it doesn't seem fair to them, or their memories, for me to be, well, the happiest I've ever been." He looked at Severus again. "Does that make any sense?"

Severus hesitated. "It makes sense, yes. But you should not feel any guilt on any of their behalf, or on your own, come to that. Think about your family, and your former mentors, for a moment. Do you really think they would be upset if you were happy?"

"No," said Harry. "I suppose they wouldn't. Actually, I think they'd be happy, too. Well, Sirius might not be thrilled about who I picked." He laughed a little, and Severus half-smiled. "Drives me crazy when you do that, you know. Just want to kiss the smirk right off your face."

"You are more than welcome to do so."

And after that, Harry's mood was substantially more upbeat. He wanted to talk throughout the day, something endearing enough that it didn't get to Severus too much, unless he was in the middle of a particularly interesting chapter of his latest acquisition from the used bookshop nearby. Usually, if he really wanted Harry to shut it for a while, he'd just find a film the younger man had not yet seen, and that would pacify him for a few hours until he eagerly wanted to discuss whatever he'd watched. And Severus was open to that; Harry was bright and occasionally offered insight Severus had not considered, though Severus would never admit that to him.

Sometimes, when Severus was reading, he let his mind wander to the decision he'd made the week after Harry arrived in the Cotswolds. He hadn't shared it with anyone yet, though he knew Harry would be the first. But when to tell him? Severus' birthday was the first of July, and eventually, he determined that would be the day. Harry was overly excited about the present he'd gotten Severus, and Severus believed his mood would only improve when he heard the news.

Harry went all out for the occasion. Where he'd found dragon's meat in England, Severus hadn't the faintest, but it was delicious, as was the cake.

"I had to buy that," Harry said somewhat apologetically. "I can cook, but I can't bake for shit."

"I will take what I can get," said Severus dryly. He added, in a much more sincere tone, "Thank you, Harry. Once again, you prove your thoughtfulness."

"And you haven't even gotten your gift yet," Harry said, sounding halfway to thrilled. "Do you want it now?"

"No time like the present."

"That was a pun, you know. And not a very good one."

"Oh, shut it."

Harry grinned as he handed Severus the brightly wrapped package. Severus removed the paper to find a box filled with black tea, amaretto, an assortment of his favorite Zonko's treats, popcorn, and a complete box set of the one Muggle TV show in which he'd indulged, Battlestar Galactica.

"It's a date in a box," Harry explained. "Well, a number of dates in a box. I figured we still had all summer to have them, so..."

"And I thought you'd reached your thoughtfulness quotient for the night." Severus kissed Harry, quickly and lightly, and Harry blushed, something he still did sometimes that Severus found fairly irresistible. "Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome."

"And about that 'all summer'..." Severus took a breath. "Harry, I have decided not to take the position of Defence professor at Hogwarts."

"What?" Harry sounded shocked. Severus had expected as much.

"Kingsley determined he would rather stay at Hogwarts than return to the ministry, and I was, in a sense, relieved. I had had my reservations about taking the job, namely, you."

"Me? Aren't you staying on as Potions professor, then?"

"Harry, I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

"But why?" Harry was still confused, which amused Severus, though he didn't let it show.

"I would rather retire and start a life with you than continue going through the motions for an indefinite period."

If Harry had been excited about the gift he'd given Severus, he was now ecstatic about the gift Severus was given him. He practically launched himself at the older man. After kissing him several times over, Harry said, "You know, we never did have that talk about physical limitations and all that."

"So we haven't."

"Want to?"

"Not while you're on top of me."

"Oh." Harry looked at Severus, who shook his head and told himself not to say anything too affectionate or maudlin. Harry laughed. "Right." He moved back to his chair and they talked as they ate their cake.

"I've never had sex with anyone," said Harry.

Severus was surprised and tried not to show it. "Oh?"

"No. Definitely not with Ginny, barely even snogged her. And with Malfoy..." Harry scowled. "Well, he wanted to, but we weren't even properly together, and besides, it's Malfoy. Something was still disgusting about that."

"Well, I cannot make the same claim, though my physical relationships have been fairly sparing." Severus smiled faintly as he said, "I assure you that I have never kissed anyone nearly as many times as I have kissed you."

"Yeah, well, I kind of like that sort of thing."

"What other sorts of things would you like, Harry?"

"Oh, you know." The younger man was shy all of a sudden. It was cute. Severus hated describing things as cute, but there was no better word for it. "Not sex. Not yet. But something more, maybe."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Well, the next step, you know, would be..." Severus had never seen Harry squirm quite this much.

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"I'm pretty sure you do."

"If you are suggesting what I think you are suggesting," said Severus, "then I would consider that another equally generous birthday present."

Harry grinned. "Well, we could go to your room and see if we're thinking along the same lines." He stood and offered a hand to Severus. Severus took it, and the younger man said, "Happy birthday, Severus."

And it was.

They continued to sleep in separate beds, although Harry would visit sometimes in the mornings, curling up next to Severus, cat-like. And then they would set about their routines, Harry watching a film, Severus reading a book, capping off their days with dinner and board games and some private time in the bedroom. If Severus had known happiness before this, or contentment, or joy, then he couldn't recognize it. Ever the realist, he knew that it would be difficult for both of them when people began finding out about the state of their relationship. But right now, at this time and in this place, Severus felt that he and the man he knew he loved were doing as well as anyone possibly could.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry had kept very quiet about his summer whereabouts. There were not many people who would be particularly interested in where he was taking up residence, but when they did ask, he told them he was working on selling Grimmauld Place, which was true. He never flat out said he was _living _there. That was for them to figure out on their own, or not.

In fact, Hermione was the only one who definitively knew that Harry was living with Severus in the Cotswolds. She hadn't been surprised to find out, and she had seemed pleased, which Harry found reassuring. Though he was content to make Severus Snape his world, if anyone else was going to be around, it might as well be Hermione.

He wasn't too surprised when not one, but two invitations came by owl the day after Severus' birthday, two weeks before Percy and Hermione's wedding. His included some clarification about what he'd be doing in the wedding. He was standing up on Hermione's side, along with Ginny and Luna. The ceremony would be held in a Muggle church, and the whole day would be filled with Muggle traditions, which intrigued both Harry and Severus.

Severus was more surprised at his inclusion on the guest list.

"Why on earth would Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley want me with them as they celebrate their nuptials?" he asked Harry after he opened his invitation.

"Because Hermione knows we're together," said Harry. "Also, you know you don't have to be so proper all the time, right?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"'Celebrate their nuptials?'"

"Alright, get married, then."

"Anyway, both of them respect you a lot, and Hermione's the only one who knows I live here. So she understands that we're ... you know, serious."

"Are we, then?" Severus' voice was on the edge of teasing, which Harry loved.

"Well, considering what I _do _with you, I hope that's what we are."

"Speaking of..."

Harry also loved segues like that.

Harry and Severus determined that they'd stay in a Muggle town a few minutes away from the church where Hermione and Percy were to be wed. Some other wedding guests were there as well, and all of them were surprised to see Harry and Severus together.

"What should we tell them, then?" Harry asked Severus after they'd narrowly avoided a conversation with Neville Longbottom.

"Difficult to say," said Severus. "Traveling together does seem suspect."

"We could say we just ... ran into each other," Harry said.

"I don't mind hiding the truth."

"That I already know."

"Oh, shut it, boy."

"I love when you call me that."

"I know."

Their flair for dishonesty was tested when they passed McGonagall—did Harry call her "Minerva" now, or was that too bold?—on the way out to the car Severus had rented. The rehearsal was that evening, and Severus was accompanying Harry to the dinner thereafter. That, they'd determined, would not seem so strange, as Severus was both a mentor to Harry and a friend of the Weasley parents.

"We just ran into each other," Harry blurted out as soon as McGonagall began speaking to him. She looked at him oddly and said, "Of course, Potter," then spoke with Severus for a few moments before going up to her room. She played the Muggle part well—not surprising, considering how conservative her wardrobe tended to be in general. Severus was good at it, too, but he'd always looked nice in plainclothes. Better than nice, really ... Actually, quite sexy ... Harry shook himself mentally and said a pleasant goodbye to McGonagall as he and Severus entered the parking lot.

"I wonder if you could perhaps be a bit more casual next time," said Severus as they got in the car.

"Stuff it," said Harry cheerily. "She just thought I was being the stupid boy she's always known and loved so much."

"She does love you, you know," Severus said. "She favored you over the other Gryffindors. With the exception of Miss Granger, of course."

"You should probably call her Hermione."

"Right. Hermione. How kind of the Granger parents to give her such a lovely name."

"Oh, and I'm sure you're thrilled that Tobias and Elaine were kind enough to call you 'Severus.' Bet that was a laugh when you were a kid." Severus always referred to his parents by their first names, and seemed to find it amusing when Harry did the same.

"I despised my name as a child, but I believe it suits me now."

"I think it's sexy."

"You think the way I brush my teeth is sexy."

"Is that a complaint? Should I find you less sexually appealing than I do?" Harry teased.

"I would rather not discuss both sex and you as we are arriving at a church," said Severus as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Right. Probably wise. Now, I'm sure this won't take too long."

It didn't. Harry didn't have to do anything but stand there, and the only hitch in the entire rehearsal was the glower that never left Ron's face. He, Charlie, and Bill were standing on Percy's side, while George was doing a reading from an old Scottish poet, Robert Burns. Burns also happened to be a wizard, but that was something Harry had only recently found out.

The dinner was delicious, and everyone seemed to be getting along just fine. Harry was able to catch up with Hermione while Severus talked with the Weasley parents about a transfiguration law that was being repealed. George was making moony eyes at Angelina, his longtime girlfriend. When Harry noticed, Hermione whispered, "He'll be proposing any day now." Percy, Bill, and Charlie seemed to be getting on as well as ever, and the same could be said of Fleur and Ginny; Ginny was even smiling. The two of them were talking with Luna, who'd just gotten back from a trip to the Isle of Wight with the Scamander family.

And then, there was Ron.

Ron sat at the very edge of the table, looking dour. He had hardly spoken a word, even to Harry, since he had arrived, and Parvati wasn't with him—not a great sign, Harry noted. He asked Hermione if she and Ron had talked yet.

"A little here and there, yeah, but he—well, he's being very difficult," she said quietly. "I don't think he's said one word to Percy."

"Probably feels like Percy stole you."

"Ron never had me!"

"Well, he did, technically." Hermione looked on the edge of anger, and Harry said hastily, "But that's over, that's done. You're getting married tomorrow. Can you believe it?"

Hermione grinned. "Hardly. I'm so glad you're going to be there with us, Harry."

"So am I."

"So..." Hermione looked around to make sure no one was listening in, then asked, "How's your summer been? How's Professor Snape?"

"Call him Severus."

"Fine. How's Severus?" Hermione giggled.

"He's brilliant," Harry said enthusiastically, causing Hermione to giggle again. "We hardly do anything at all, and it's just excellent. I'll watch a film and he'll read a book and we'll talk about it, and we'll go into town to this ancient bookshop where he gets all his new, well, old, I guess, books, and we do day trips into Glasgow and London and the like..."

"Sounds better than Privet Drive."

"Obviously." Harry grinned at Hermione. "How are you guys? Have you found a job yet?"

"Yes. Well, it's not official, but I'll be working in the Magical Law department at the ministry in the fall."

"Congratulations! Not official?"

"Not supposed to tell anyone. So, you know. Shush."

"I'll keep it quiet, I promise," said Harry. "So, are you moving into Percy's place, then?"

"We're looking for somewhere bigger, but yes, for now, that's what we'll do," Hermione said. "It's going to be lovely. Of course, I'll always be grateful to the Weasleys for letting me stay with them, but..." Hermione lowered her voice. "That house can be a nightmare. In a bedroom next to Arthur and Molly's, there are things you cannot un-hear."

Harry started laughing, near uncontrollably, and Hermione joined. Severus looked over, just for a second. Harry caught his eye and grinned. Severus, who would never grin back, managed a little more than half a smile, and Harry remembered all over again why he loved the man across the table.

What happened next was so sudden that Harry didn't have a particularly strong recollection of exactly what occurred. All he seemed to hear or see was Ron yelling something hardly distinguishable at Percy and Ron's fist flying toward his older brother's face. Later, it was determined that Ron had made an offhand comment involving the phrase "sloppy seconds," Percy said something about Ron's overeager sperm, and Ron swore as he hit Percy in the eye. George had ointment to clear up the black eye on hand and Ron ended up leaving, and perhaps this was the reason that the ceremony and reception went so perfectly the next day.

"Ah, young love," said Severus to Harry. They were sitting at their table at the reception. The crowd had dwindled significantly, though there were a few stray couples on the dance floor, Hermione and Percy included. Harry had danced with Hermione a few times, and Luna as well, while Severus had been around the floor with McGonagall and Fleur. Now, the two men took a break together to contemplate the day, or days, as it were.

"In a way, it was good that Ron left. The day would've been a hell of a lot less fun if he'd been as sulky as last night," Harry said. "It was fun, right?"

"I enjoyed myself, if that is what you are wondering," asked Severus.

"Did you enjoy yourself enough to have a go out there?" Harry gestured at the dance floor.

Severus looked around at the others still hanging about. The crowd was sparse, mostly Weasleys and their dates, though there were a few hangers on, like Kingsley and Luna.

"I'm not sure that would be wise, Harry," Severus said gently. "To go from no one knowing to everyone..."

Harry stood. The boldness was almost undoubtedly champagne-influenced, but what the hell? It just seemed like the right place and the right time.

"Dance with me, Severus," he said, offering the older man his hand.

"Harry, no."

"Yes."

"But the others—"

"Are going to find out someday anyway, so what's the harm in right now?"

Severus sighed and, rather reluctantly, stood, taking Harry's hand. The two of them walked to the dance floor. Severus led, and to Harry, that felt right.

Hermione grinned at Harry and poked Percy in the side, who smiled, too. Harry wondered how long Percy had known, then decided he didn't care. Angelina and George looked at Harry oddly, who shrugged slightly and gave them a goofy grin. Angelina still looked puzzled, but George winked, and Harry knew there was always something he'd liked about that boy. The Weasley parents were dancing right next to Harry and Severus. Molly gave Severus a knowing look; in a rare move, Severus' cheeks turned a deep scarlet, and the music got slower as all four adults simply smiled.

Harry took the lead and steered Severus away from the crowd. "Listen, I've made a decision, and I wanted to tell you tonight."

"Oh?" Severus seemed happy, judging from his face's pink tinge and slight half smile.

"In the fall, I'm not going to work at the ministry. Or anywhere."

"Why on earth would you decide to do that?"

Harry leaned his face against Severus' so their noses were touching. Once again, he wondered how he could possibly ever find this man anything but beautiful. "I have my whole life to get a job and go to work and become a boring person. Right now, though ... the only occupation I want is you." He looked up into Severus' eyes. "Can we do this, Severus? Can we live together and be together for as long as time lets us?"

Severus paused. Harry braced himself and relaxed as he heard, "I see no problem with the scenario."

"I love the way you talk," Harry said, pecking him on the cheek.

"My, but we are bold tonight, aren't we?"

"If we go back to the room, I reckon we can do something bolder."

"I see no problem with that scenario, either."


	17. Chapter 17

Soon, a schedule was set, but not what anyone would call strictly. Severus and Harry spent their days much as they had earlier in the summer, but now, at night, between idle conversations, they made travel plans. Harry sold Grimmauld Place the week before his birthday, so as their budget expanded, so did the geographical areas they planned to visit. For Harry's birthday, it would be the Highlands. How Harry had lived so near that wondrous place for so long and never caught a glimpse ... Well, it was slightly tragic, really, but all the slight tragedies of Harry's previous life, Severus aimed to rectify.

On Saturdays—every Saturday, now—they took a day trip and went to a film. They were branching out now. Severus felt that for the time being, Harry had had his fill of classics and was ready to delve into modern cinema. Both were happy about the change; there was no more re-viewing for Severus, and Harry, well, Harry just wanted to watch whatever events unfold on screen. Then they'd go back to the Cotswolds and cuddle, though Severus seemed to despise that word.

By Harry's 19th birthday, he and Severus were sleeping side by side every night, luxuriating in each other's warmth and scent, though they still had not had sex, nor did they plan to particularly soon. The slow pace at which their physical relationship progressed pleased both of them. It needed to mean more than simple carnal pleasure, and, though they'd never admitted it to each other, until they heard "I love you," it wasn't going to happen.

"Good God," Harry breathed the morning of his birthday. He and Severus were standing on a dock in Loch Lomond, looking out over the rocky Highlands landscape. "I just ... I don't even know what to say."

"Words are not particularly necessary," said Severus, putting his hand into Harry's, their fingers interlacing.

Harry turned to Severus. "Severus?"

"Yes?"

"There's something I wanted to tell you."

Severus' breath caught in his throat. Rarely nervous, it was a strange and wonderful feeling for him, as he already knew what was coming.

"And what was that?"

"I love you." Harry kissed Severus and added, "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to—"

"I love you, too, Harry." Severus kissed Harry this time. As an afterthought, he said, "Happy birthday. We're going to a ludicrously expensive restaurant after this."

Harry grinned. In point of fact, he hardly stopped grinning the entire day as they ate delicious meals, went to see a film, and spent several hours simply being together, watching television in the room Severus had rented, keeping each other warm underneath the sheets of the bed.

"This bed's a bit big for my tastes," said Harry, curling up to Severus.

"I will keep that in mind."

"Do you ever think about it?" Harry asked, leaning up on his elbow and looking at Severus. "Getting our own place, settling down there?"

"Every day," Severus said quietly.

"...And?"

"Well, Edinburgh is nice, wouldn't you agree?"

"I've never been there."

"Oh, Harry." Severus kissed him. "There's still so much work to be done with you."


End file.
